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Showing posts with label yard sales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yard sales. Show all posts

Wednesday

Do You Know Your Neighbors?

You never know what is behind the doors of your neighbor's house unless you have visited them and been inside. Or if you peeked into windows. But, that's creepy!


In my neighborhood, some of the neighbors stay to themselves, and I often wonder who they are and what they are like. You can tell a lot about people by the "stuff" they have. For example: If you came inside my house after the first time I invited you in, you would see that I have a lot of cat stuff. Therefore, one could assume I like cats and they'd be correct.

Recently two of these neighbors have had yard sales for the last couple weeks in preparation for moving. Every weekend new items were set out. I went over to one neighbor's yard sale. They had tables set out in their driveway. Everything was set on the tables in an orderly manner with price tags on them. I could tell they put a lot of effort into setting up. Upon chatting with them, I realized by their behavior, straightening things as soon as something was sold that they were orderly people. Perhaps a little overly concerned about neatness. But, I wouldn't complain. It was easy for me to see the things they had for sale. Books were all near other books. All kitchenware all placed together. I learned very quickly that the woman was a librarian and her husband was a bookkeeper. It sort of makes sense. Doesn't it?

I hadn't ever met the  wife of the other couple. She stayed to herself. Whenever she drove into her driveway, she limped quickly into her doorway looking neither right nor left. It was always clear to me she was a very private person. Her husband, Frank, on the other hand was friendly and outgoing. I had often seen him out and chatting with other neighbors and met him a couple times informally.

I had heard that Peggy and Frank only had a month in which to move from their house. I went over to see what they had for sale in their driveway. I quickly realized that Peggy was a genuine "hoarder" as I looked into the open door of the garage where Frank was pulling items out. Boxes and boxes of unrelated items were crammed to the ceiling. Women's items. Shoes, clothing, hats, etc.

Things were piled onto a tarp in the middle of the driveway. Frank brought out one box at a time and emptied them out onto the tarp while Georgia sorted through deciding what to sell and what not to sell. For the most part, as she kneeled on the tarp, she put items back into the box. Frank came out with another box to empty. Peggy hand back to him the previous box. "Take this back." she said.

"Honey, you know we have to get rid of this stuff!" Frank said.

"I know, but some of this is good stuff, collectibles and such. They are worth something!" She said. I saw him roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders as he took the box from her. "If they are worth something, put a price on them and let's sell them and get this done and over with!"

She was silent as she began pawing through the purses he had just dumped on the tarp. Peggy then looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "These are real good purses. Good high fashion designer brands." She held one up, "This is a Ralph Lauren. That one is a Gucci."

"I can see that." I said as I picked one up. "Louis Vuitton?"

 She nodded and wiped a tear off her cheek as Frank came over with another box. "Don't dump those here." Peggy said. They go over on the dresser there. Those are knick knacks." She started putting purses back into the purse box. Something caught my eye, a purse with cats on it.


"Oh! How much do you want for this?" I asked as I picked it up.

"That's a Laurel Burch. That cost about fifty dollars when new."

"Five dollars!" said Frank, as he came back to us with another box to dump on the tarp.

"No!" Peggy said.

"Ten?" Frank said with a smile his face. I could see that by interacting with us, he was encouraging his wife to actually let go and sell the items she so desperately wanted to keep. She looked at him, frowning, and turned to me,"Twenty."


I really wanted the purse with the cats on it! I was just about to give in when Frank looked lovingly at his wife and said. "Peggy, honey, we can't overprice these things. We've GOT to sell stuff quickly or we are not going to make the deadline to get out of here. You don't want to pay rent on two houses at once. Do you?" He looked at me. "The new place we're moving to is much smaller and doesn't have a garage. There's no place to put all this stuff."

I said, "I understand." I smiled at Peggy, still holding the purse in my hand. "How about fifteen dollars?" She slowly nodded and put her hand out. I gave her the money. She looked crestfallen. I was so sad that this sweet couple were in such a dilemma.

The following week, they had another yard sale, and another. But it was clear to me that Frank and Peggy were not making much headway. After they moved, and were gone a couple weeks, I ran into Frank at the grocery store. He told me they had put the extra stuff into a storage facility. I felt sad for them. After all, it costs money to do that and I doubted they would ever empty the storage.

After seeing how emotionally difficult it was for Peggy to sell her stuff and learning of their decision to put things in storage, I had a realization. It made me face the fact of just how much junk I have sitting around that I don't really NEED!

A local cat rescue group, Project Purr, is going to hold a giant Rummage sale next month. I'm cleaning out my closets, drawers and garage, putting things in boxes. I am donating it all directly to Project Purr. I have already taken three carloads of boxes over to them this last two weeks. And now the car is right half packed with another load.

Thank you Frank and Peggy for opening my eyes to my own tendency to hoard.

Monday

Yard Sales and Thrift Shopping

What makes a person hoard, or collect things?

Was it what triggered my mother's frequent visits to thrift shops and yard sales? She seemed to have a never ending compulsion to buy up trinkets, knick knacks, kitchen ware and clothing.

She had various collections over the years. I remember the rooster stage. The house was full of them. Then there was the "copper kitchen" phase. Her Hummel figurines and angels had their own shelves strategically placed throughout the house. Still, she culled and cleared once in a while. Her sense of being a dutiful housewife had not been overidden her desire to own things. Underneath it all, she was a clean freak.

If Mom had a penchant for signs of abundance, I'm sure it was due to the poverty of growing up in the post depression era. It was a time of little food, clothes made out of papa's worn shirts and going without shoes all summer to save the expense of buying new ones. She owned one doll in her whole childhood, and one little child size teapot she cherished until the day she died.

In order for me to come to the decision of becoming a minimalist, I am affording myself a look upon that which has brought me to this point as I tackle the not insurmountable task of divesting myself of "stuff". The last ten years, I have lived in one house, beginning with it empty, except for bare minimum of belongings. Now, I'm guessing, my belongings could accommodate the needs of several families.

I have diligently discarded margarine tubs, and not allowed myself to have sentimental attachment to Christmas cards and magazines. (Paper is my weakness.) I've regularly made a run through my house de-cluttering and discarded things a la Fly Lady. But, like my mother, I have a penchant for the delight of finding a treasure at a bargain price whether it be a teacup edged in gold or sturdy bedsheets.

About five years ago I gave up stopping at yard sales! It was sort of like severing my arm from my body, but I needed to lighten the burden of my "things". I wanted to let go and be free of excess. It's an addiction difficult to break.

At first it was extremely challenging to drive by without taking a wistful look. I learned to carry no cash. Who would take a check for even my most avid purchase? And it certainly helped having someone else do the driving, admonishing me, "Don't Look!"

Today, however, I stopped at the thrift shop on a whim. They take credit cards, you know. The store called out to me, I swear. "Stop! Don't pass me by!"

Or was that "buy"?