Garage sale glory

There are few things I despise as much as having a garage sale.  Every time the thought even crosses my mind, I am taken back to last year when I declared that I would rather take all of my belongings, pile them up, and set them on fire than go through the catastrophic depression and letdown that is, to me, having a garage sale.
Truth be told, I’m a pack rat.  I don’t like to throw anything away because I might need it someday for a craft project, a scout badge or some other really important event.  So I save.  Everything.  Especially small junky things, and ever single gift that anyone ever gave me because in my mind, throwing it out is like throwing out a piece of that person.
You can imagine that parts of my house could appear on those TV shows that highlight heavy-duty collectors.
But alas, it is time to declutter and remove things from my basement so that it’s not a fire hazard.  Not to mention my children who sprout at such rates that I’m considering feeding them coffee to stunt their growth just a little so we can get an extra week out of a pair of pants.  It’s time for things to go, and a few extra bucks always comes in handy this time of year.  And so, we are, against my better judgment, having a garage sale.
I will put my precious items on display and watch people rifle through and offer me pennies for something I once loved and really wish I wasn’t getting rid of.  I will try my hardest not to get teary when someone hauls off a special memory in exchange for a shiny nickel. 
That is, if anyone even comes.
What’s to say that my junk is better than anyone else’s?  Not being a good garage sale shopper myself I’m not sure how to truly draw in a decent customer base.  I considered lighting pleasant candles, offering free coffee or lemonade.  I will stage the fancier items in plain view of passersby to help lure them in to the wonderful treasures that await once they pass the threshold of my garage door.
I think this year I’m going to ramp up my advertising.  No more generic signs on the end of the street or at the corner.  No balloons.  No flags.  This year, it’s going to be authentic rhyming advertising in the style of Burma Shave…
My basement’s full, He’s had enough.  Husband told me, To sell our stuff.
Stop here to make, a kind deposit.  Buy my stuff, And fill your closet.
My kids are growing!  They won’t stop!  Buy their pants, Buy their tops!
What’s your favorite, Junky pleasure? Take a look, And find a treasure!
A burning pocket, From a shiny nickel? Take a gander, At my singing pickle. 

(Just kidding.  My yodeling pickle is a gift from a dear friend and isn’t going anywhere.)

Originally written/publishes 9/28/14


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