Life is cyclical. For every reaction, there is an equal and opposite reaction. For every yin, there is a yang. Often all we do is just shuffle stuff from one spot to another. It’s all some sort of karmic balance. You give to get.
So I come home one day to find a flyer in my mailbox. It seems someone on the street thinks it will be a good idea to have a garage sale. I think this is a horrible idea. It’s an odd phenomenon, garage sales. Who had the audacity to look at all their junk and go, “You know, I betcha my neighbors will pay me for some of this crap.”
This to me just sounds eerie. I mean, if I had to, I would much rather buy stuff from someone I didn’t know. I would feel kinda strange buying something from my neighbor. I don’t know why I get caught up in this sort of stuff. Like I will be suspect when I see what crap my neighbor is hawking. I mean, if it’s not good enough for him, what makes me think its good enough for me? “Geez, if my neighbor Mike is selling this 10 lb. dumbbell, there must be something wrong with it! Maybe it’s only 9.8 lbs.” I don’t know about you, but the thought of buying clothes at garage sales is kind of, well, icky for lack of a better word. What happens if they then get jealous seeing me wear their old clothes around the ‘hood? “Damn, that Kev sure knows how to rock my old velour track suit.” This is too much pressure for me.
Yes, I know this is a great opportunity to get rid of a lot of stuff we don’t use. But is it efficient? I mean so we have to waste a whole night picking out shit we don’t want/need in the hopes one of our neighbors is gullible enough to snap it up? And even if we do sell anything, will the profit of 3.47 justify the time and effort it took? I think not.
This is one example where I blame reality TV. It’s gone through fads; bike building, poker, wedding cakes, little people and now we have something called American Pickers. I haven’t really watched the show too much, but it’s basically about these 2 guys who go and swindle…uh buy old shit from people who don’t know its true value. For example, they see a rusting metal sign and buy it for $20, and it gets appraised for something ridiculous like $500. Now in this economy, I want to meet the tool that has 500 to blow on a shitty sign. Great, so now I have a sign that has some sort of assigned value, WTF am I going to do with it? Hint; you’ll put it in the damn garage with the rest of your stupid shit. So now everyone thinks they will find a diamond in the rough. Everyone thinks they are going to find that long lost Renoir painting in the crazy cat lady’s shed. Get real.
Do people go to these things with lists? Is there something really specific they are looking for? If so, that is a pretty poor way to shop. I really think people go with the mentality of, “lemme see what I can buy that I would never normally buy new.”
Yea, I have a ton of old shit I don’t use in my garage; so does everyone else. That’s what garages are for. I think there is some sort of long standing ordinance in my township that says so. In fact, a quick cursory look around my garage reveals all kinds of candidates. Who needs a 42 quart fryer? Because I at one time apparently did. Boxing gloves, every garage sale always has boxing gloves. And bowling balls. I also have some sort of component to a Sony stereo that I am sure is outdated by now. I see a half inflated palm tree. I have an empty keg.( And yes, it was a killer party.) I think my neighbors will see how little I think of them and their tastes when I try to push all this shit on them. “Hey, Lou, you need a half used can of teal spray paint?”
So I am doing what any self-respecting man would do. I am getting the hell out of Dodge for the day. I’ll stick the wife with the responsibility of hawking my shit that I would be too embarrassed to myself. She can sell my hard hat that holds 2 beer cans. She can sell my wrestling ‘action figures’. I’ll dust off all my old Nerf guns and wipe the rat poop of the electric racing set. Ha, that’ll teach her for wanting to participate.
My street will be littered with picnic tables and card tables, all holding the SWDW (shit we don’t want). CD holders, shoe trees, glasses from Burger King. Out of fashion blouses, worn shoes, dignity, ugly lamps. I hope the Google Map car doesn’t pick tomorrow to drive down my street.
The irony is that soon enough, anything you buy will slowly morph back into ‘junk’. That popcorn popper you bought will reside in the spot where you kept the never used funnel cake kit. Yin and yang. In and out.
We all know how the deal works; most of this shit will either be left out all night, or put out on the next trash day. If you play the waiting game, you will be rewarded.
This was one of those rare, rare occasions where I was pretty wrong about the whole deal. My guess of grossing 3 dollars was way off. Good lord, people will buy anything if it’s cheap enough. That electric race set netted us five big ones. Of all things, it turns out the Nerf guns were most popular. T tells me kids were snapping them up. After realizing we had the hot commodity, we of course jacked the price up. Even as she was wrapping up, a mom and teary eyed son appeared at our door. “I’m sorry to bother you, and I normally don’t do this sort of thing,” she tells T, “but my husband and son were just here and he bought a Nerf gun. Now my youngest one wants one, too. Do you have any left over?” We just so happened to have some left over, and being big hearted and all, T didn’t even jack up the price like I would have done. My biggest fear is that all the neighborhood snots are going to be running around and assaulting me with my own weapons.
My guess is my street will be doing this again next year. My guess is it will be all the same shit that was out before; just on someone else’s table. My guess is I will be spending the week in my garage signing baseballs as Babe Ruth and that player who was on steroids. Not, not that one, the other one. Now if you’ll excuse me, its trash night and I’ve got some work to do.
