Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Garage sale lessons
The past 9 months, we've been on a mission to earn/save money in as many ways as we can. We've kept a record in my crazy pink paisley notebook, writing down each penny as it came in. I've waitressed. We cut back our grocery budget. We sold random things on Craigslist: Aaron's old orchestra tuxedo and a gas grill someone gave us. We did odd jobs -- cleaning, taxes, handyman help.
It's been a lot of fun. Okay, some days of waitressing were not that fun. Short Blonde Hair Lady, I'm really sorry that your potpie wasn't hot enough. But overall, the process of saving for something important has been a good experience. Now we're t-minus two weeks to departure date for a trip that we never could have afforded on our normal spending/saving plan. And I get to see these faces!! Eeek! That right there is worth every grumpy customer.
The garage sale is our last "fundraiser" if you will. My mantra for the garage sale is, "I will not be a hoarder." Yikes. The biggest problem with being a thrift store + garage sale aficionado myself is I bring a lot of crap (sorry Mom; it's the most apt word) into our house. But by golly, it's not gonna stay!
I've been combing through our house the past week or so, taking out things that we could sell. Last night, I got to the magazines.
"Oh man. I know I want to keep the Country Livings."
Aaron looked over, bemused.
"And maybe the Better Homes. But what I really want to do is go through them and clip the pages I'd like to keep."
Bigger smile from Aaron.
"I think I'm definitely keeping the Martha Stewart Livings."
I have a magazine problem y'all. Some were given to me as gifts, others I bought myself for rock bottom $5 subscriptions or something irresistible like that. Give me a stack of magazines anyday over Pinterest. I could sit cozied up on the couch with my glossy friends for hours.
When I said I couldn't part with the Garden Gates, Aaron saw the moment for intervention. He reminded me it's a slippery slope. Before I know it, I'll go from keeping a shelf of magazines to having 45 cats and wearing a moo-moo all day.
Thank you, husband.
"What if I just keep what I can fit in this cubby?" I bartered.
"Um, no. I know how that game goes. You can fit a lot of stuff in one cubby."
What a hardnose. Sheesh.
I'll skip to the end of the story for you: I'm getting rid of the magazines!! It is a sorrow to part with Martha. What if someday I need to know the exact way Bedford stakes peonies??? And how will I know when to polish my brass antiquity collection without her calendar???
I can't help but wondering, though, as the pile grows in the sunroom, if maybe, just maybe, the things we don't want to part with are exactly the things we need to give up?
Sometimes it takes a magazine to remind you:
Open hands is the best way to live.
After all, no one really looks good in a moo-moo.