one man's junk

Well, after spending an entire day on my mom's driveway, hoping to make a small fortune off what should have been another man's treasure, it turns out that most of this one (wo)man's my junk is still my junk.

We had a garage sale one Sunday last month - me, my mom and Kelly (and Avery and Liam). A "multi-family, fall clean out. Everything MUST go!" After the newspaper failed to print our $12.37 ad (media!), we had to rely on a couple of signs on the highway and the old garage saley senses to lure people to my mom's, only to sniff at our precious things and leave empty handed.

We had good stuff. Stuff I would certainly buy had I been the garage saler instead of the seller. My mom had the most interesting stuff - antique knick-knacks, dish sets, kitchen utensils and other interesting things (all picked up from garage sales she frequented in the past, no doubt). Kelly had kids clothes, ice skates, skis, toys, and household items. I had a huge collection of CDs - some of them still in the wrapping (sent from the record labels, for work), some knick-knacks, bedding, pottery, etc.

My grand tally at the end of the day was $40.65. I think Kelly made almost $30 and my mom just over $80.

"I think it would be smarter just to go to work and throw all this stuff away next time," was my mom's analysis of the day.

But no, we stayed out there about seven hours, trying everything from friendliness to telepathic vibes to convince people - unsuccessfully - to buy our bargains ("the hummingbird music box - pick up the hummingbird music box!!").

I write it off as entertainment, though, as I watched people come and peruse the goods, often contemplating something for a while before asking the price, and then either returning it to its place or pulling out the dosh.

Best line of the day, spoken in complete earnestness by a four-year-old, to his grandma: "That's funny, they said this was a garage sale, but there aren't any games." Character of the day is a toss-up - either the downs syndrome guy that went through every CD I had (more than 50 of them) and told me everything I needed to know (and then some) about every band in the lot, or the guy who announced, upon walking up, that he was a cheapskate so we were not to get our hopes up that we would make any money off him. He walked away with a number of things, but wanted everything for free! No matter what price you said, he would offer half. Or offer to "take it away for scrap."

All in all, though, it was an interesting, if kitschy, day. It's a fascinating culture, garage saling. You bring all these possessions out on your driveway, and invite strangers to come on over and take what they like. It's like they get this little insight into your life - paintings that were on your walls, dish sets you ate off everyday, sheets you slept on, stuffed toys you once held in high esteem, and they take them home to look at, eat off, sleep on, play with.

Anyway, my day's earnings bought me a new, black Gap turtleneck ($20), dinner for Kyle and I at Extreme Pita and coffee and dessert at Starbucks.

Now that's a bargain.