It's Garage Sale Season

This past weekend, we emptied the garage out to clean it and threw a bunch of stuff away. I call it spring cleaning. My wife calls it "I don't want to be called a hoarder." Regardless, it was time that we purged a few things that, to be honest, we haven't touched in almost a decade. It is hard to get rid of things from your past. I am guilty of that very thing. A lot of the things we are holding onto are mine that I have been holding onto for sentimental reasons. I have this vision of my kids wanting to know about me when I was their age. Like they would be looking up to me. Then I think, when my kids are in high school, I will be considered a tool because that is how things progress. The more hip and relevant you attempt to be, the dorkier you are. Sorry Mom and Dad but back then, it was kind of true. =) My parents rocked. Who am I kidding?

Of course, this event started about the time the sun came up. I really have no idea as I was only awakened at 1030 Saturday morning because my wife informed me that she was going to purchase shelves to put in the garage. My eyes were glued shut and as I pried them open, sunlight burned through them, reminding me that I had yet again slept late. I felt incredibly guilty. I through on a hat and shoes and went out to the garage and noticed that it was empty and sitting in our driveway was our history together. I noticed cars were driving by slowly, eyeballing shit they will not get their hands on. I felt compelled to yell "MOVE ALONG, NOTHING TO SEE HERE," as if steering the paparazzi away from Heath Ledger's corpse. One person did happen to break through the verbal bubble. That was our neighbor across the street. She lives on having garage sales. Well, to me, they are sales. To her, it is a way to make rent. She asks me" at a tone and volume necessary for underwater cavern communication "are you having a garage sale," drooling with every step closer to my driveway. I said, simply "no, just cleaning." This must have shocked her to no end. Who in their right mind would....clean? So she repeated her original question. I replied, again, less enthusiastically that I, in fact, was not selling anything. She began to tell me that next weekend some non-profit group was donating their donations to her to sell for income. I cared more about a steel catheter being inserted into my junk than I did to hear about her latest reason for me to dislike my current living arrangements. I feigned interest, similarly to an episode of Sister Wives. It occurred to me that my useless crap could easily be carted across the street and dealt with by someone else rather than having me make multiple trips to the Goodwill Donation wagon in a Honda Accord. My wife, upon her return, concurred.

Jackpot.

So we began dragging things in and without a second thought, began to pile our junk on the front lawn. The neighbor across the street began to pace back and forth, like a hyena waiting for a water buffalo to die. It's almost like watching the clock steadily approach high noon, diners waiting for cookie to ring the triangle. I left briefly to go throw away some boxes and other miscellaneous trash and when I returned, I saw people grabbing stuff from our yard and walking across the street, resembling ants taking food back to the colony. It was golden. This essentially saved me about 2 hours. I couldnt have been happier. Then I helped carry one load over...and I haven't really slept since. I got to hear more than I cared to about the inadequacies of her life, her trials that, according to her, had nothing to do with her specifically, but more TO her. Rough life being unemployed for 3 years. Really? 3 years? How is that? Are you injured? (no) I notice you have enough wherewithall to speed off in your Dodge Caravan for smokes every afternoon, so it isn't a mental defect (at least cognitively) or gross motor skill impairment (you do walk across the street daily for your mail). Seems to me that the choice to be unemployed is yours. Most people look forward to the spring weather for the activities, the fever we all get because winter is over. You look forward to it so the table and chair outside your front door has meaning....you sit in it and get cancer and yell at your kids for being born. Yes, Spring is here. How exciting. I now get to meet more people than I care to...as they park in front of my house....and buy your shit (and some of mine).