Our blind dog is having some trouble navigating through the house tonight. Our den is currently buried under a mountain of stuff. CD racks, vintage toys, shoes that rubbed me wrong, one old printer, a board game, various computer cables to whoknowswhat, throw pillows that match nothing in particular, purses who have served their time, etc.
It's the "etc." that scares me a little...what was so important about this junk that made us hold on to it for years, moving it from house to house to attic?
Some of it was useful in its day. Some of it is just CRAP! I can't believe we get to have a yard sale in the morning. I mean, people will actually show up at our house before the sun rises, and pay US money to take away our crap. What a deal! (I LOVE THIS COUNTRY!)
Last March, we did this (yes, we DO have that much crap) and there were people meeting us at the door a full 30 minutes before we "opened" to see what crap was emanating from the house next in order to grab it or turn their noses up at it. One savory fellow bragged to us about having 90,000 watches in his collection. That's not a collection; that's lots of similar CRAP in one place. :) He bought a few non-working ones from us...even the freebies I got from TIME magazine. I would call him pathetic, but then, I'd have to check out the plank in my eye...you know.
My weakness is books. I have discovered the joys of our book exchange shop, but still there are boxes and shelves full that I cannot purge. Selling books you love is much like giving away your friends to strangers. It's weird and wrong. Keep books. Especially if you're like me, and you only have vague recollections of plots...in five or eight years re-reading them is like reading them for the first time!
OK, maybe I shouldn't have admitted that aloud.
I'll keep you posted on how our SALE goes, and what kinds of interesting Rock Hillians show up before the crack of dawn...