I’m working myself up for something for something that scares me. (And no, it’s not turning 40.) What’s funny is that in telling a friend about it over the phone, somehow I managed to give the impression that I was trying to tell her that I was pregnant. (I’m not.) Though I suppose it is a kind of nesting. Or maybe anti-nesting. We’re going to have…a yard sale.
We have now been in this house over 12 years. We had a lot of stuff when we moved in. Then we bought a lot of stuff. Then we acquired a lot of stuff, antiques and small heirlooms, from both of our families. And we had a wedding, for which people gave us stuff. And we had 2 children, who also led to the acquisition of stuff. All of these things add up to way too many things. While we’ve given away much of our baby gear and baby clothes, and donated many other miscellaneous items, the rate of things leaving the house has not managed to keep pace with the rate of things coming in. The time has come for something drastic.
Our town has an annual “progressive” yard sale. Sadly, this does not refer to the politics of the town, but only to the concurrent timing of the yard sales and group listings. This morning I dropped of the registration form to get our house listed in the flyer. The deed is done. People are going to show up at our house a week from tomorrow, and hopefully they will leave with stuff.
I’ve never orchestrated a yard sale. We had a few moving sales when I was growing up, but I was never in charge. I’m a little overwhelmed.