A Room of One's Own

Today? For you? Almost free.

This weekend was the big garage sale weekend before the move. I am not kidding when I say I want to get rid of every damn bit of junk I have. A mighty endeavor. So I entered hell at 6:30 on Saturday morning, when the first prospective buyer arrived.

Now, I can honestly say that the people who came to our (fuck it, my husband HID) MY garage sale were members of one of two groups. Either they were real old and had receive a memo that he who collects the most of other people’s useless crap wins OR they were Hispanic folks trying to get back at me in some cruel way for haggling that guy in Nogales down to 23 bucks for the metal javalina in 2001. Neither group is particularly fun to deal with nor are they willing to buy a really nice computer desk for $85.

The older folks asked every damn question about every damn thing and then offered me $2.65 for nearly the entire garage sale. Memo to them: it ain’t 1942 anymore… The Hispanic people would show up and immediately try to cut the price in half. At one point, I had West Side Story in my driveway as this guy tried to totally haggle me on a jean jacket my husband never wore as another Hispanic woman watched.

Cheap guy: How much for the jacket?
Me: Three bucks.
Cheap guy: I give you two.
Me: I’m asking three.
Other lady who was annoyed as me: I’ll take the jacket for three (SWIPE!)
Cheap guy: How much for the skirt?
Me: Two bucks.
Cheap guy: I give you one dollar,
Me: Nuh-uh.
Other lady who was annoyed as me: I’ll take the skirt for two (SWIPE)

The look on his face was priceless. She was really proud of herself.

My favorite was the guy who walked up with the Packer hat on. Now, I am a major Packer fan. I had sold my cheesehead a few hours earlier. Not giving up on the Pack, just not a fan of wearing fake diary products on my head. But, I did still have the dancing Packer doll that sings Are you Ready for Some Football? I immediately let this guy know I have this gem and am willing to part with it for 5 bucks. That man went nuts. Just crazy over it. I swear, it made his decade!! I loved him. He was my favorite.

All in all, I made $387. Not really worth it considering I solidified my place as a redneck as I tried to talk someone into buy a computer desk for $85 while holding a writhing, screaming toddler wearing a shirt and diaper with no pants or shoes. Yeah, I felt special right then.

This is not my beautiful house

So, we're in moving hell. Really, I shouldn't complain. Not that is has ever stopped me before. Honestly, things have gone pretty smooth with selling our house and building the new one. I just hate moving. Period. Don't want to do it ever again. It's why I love my new house so much. I am sure I will love it so long that I will not want to move until my kids are out of college and I don't want them to find me.

My problem with moving is not really me. It is, of course, my husband. Loving, sweet, caring man but the man cannot throw anything out. I'm not even asking to throw it out. We're having a huge garage sale on Saturday. He can always give it to charity. But see, my in-laws have passed many of their belonging unto us. This makes them "heirlooms." I am not kidding here. The problem with the items that my husband cannot depart with is that he can't tell if they are truly valueable or something my in-laws got with a fill-up on gas.

Case in point - We have very ugly pilsner glasses with red painted rims. Red paint that has been scrubbed, flaked or chipped off. They are this obsured kind of glass. My husband, at first, tried to convince me that they were etched crystal from Germany and had been in the family for ages. Ummm. No. I collect Michael Weems etched crystal. Crystal does not have air bubbles in it. Turns out they were glasses his grandpa bought back in the 50's. They are chipped and totally abused. I would not serve someone a beer in them. No one is going to look at this glass and say, "Eureka!! What a marvel of painted glass!!" I don't ever think he saw his grandpa drink out of these. Ever. I doubt the sentimental connection. We agreed to keep the beer glasses in the cabinets over the ovens where I will never see them. They will be used on the odd chance my father-in-law is in town and wants a beer a his glass.

My beef is not the glasses but that I have to pack up and MOVE this crap. There are things that have been in the back of a closet for 5 years. They are not coming back out. Why? Because the are fugly. Way fugly. And have I mentioned that my in-laws are coming to help move? Most likely to ensure their fugly stuff they gave their son gets displayed somewhere prominent.

Pimp My Cart

It has become overwhelmingly apparent that I am now one of those women who have MOM written all over her. I might as well buy a damn minivan and throw in the towel.

This weekend, my daughter decided to outgrow being pushed around in the grocery cart. She used to LOVE this. She would just sit there, nicely, smiling and being cute and small. So we take a routine trip to Albertson’s to get a few groceries. I go to put her in the cart and all of a sudden I have a 30 pounds worm with a damn attitude problem. You would have thought I was trying to drop that kid in acid. Legs flying everywhere. I get “that look” from the little old lady coming through the door. I retort with the “Like you ain’t ever been there Granny?” look. I’m in a quandary as my kid simply will not just walk nicely down the aisle as I shop and I am not a fan of the you-break-it-you-buy-it rule.

Then I caught a glimpse of my fate. The big ass fucking behemoth of a cart that has an ENTIRE car attached to the front. This thing might have rivaled my Chevy SUV. So, I show it to my wormlet. She goes nuts. Climbs in and off we go. Now these things are not easy to maneuver and I am utterly aware of what I jackass I may look like. I mean, I am laughing out loud at myself. I am further making an ass out of myself by commenting about the largeness of my cart to total strangers. I can’t help it. I could only picture what I looked like “driving” this cart. And, of course, my daughter believes she is in some kind of parade and is waving to everyone as we pass them shouting “HI!!!!!” and “BEEEEP BEEEEEP!”

I’m sure I am stuck in the land of the huge carts for some time. But, I promise, I will not surrender to the minivan. EVER.