It's that time of the year -- the time when my mom and I drag out stuff for our annual garage sale.
We typically have nothing of real value to sell. In fact, we talked today about having a "Reverse Garage Sale". We'll price the items and then we'll pay customers to buy them.
Garage sales are very hard for me. In fact, one day I'm going to write a dissertation about how my pathetic sentimentality leads me to hang onto material things way too long. I'm going to write about how I keep clothing so long that you literally have to dust it in the closet. I'll tell you how difficult it is for me to part with toys, games, playpens, knick-knacks, and ice buckets. I'll write about how I sometimes put things on the garage sale table, only to take them back inside. Those bears pictured above were rescued shortly after this photo was taken at last year's sale.
One day I plan to write about how matter-of-factly my mom rids her life of clutter. She begs me to clear out my closets. She tells me how much better I'll feel. Then I spot a white porcelain cat from my childhood that she's tried to smuggle into the sale and sneak it into the house.
But for today, rather than wax poetic, I've been challenged by my mother to go deep into my closet and clear out the 20-year old wool suits which are sure to be the Next Big Thing. I've been told that I must rid myself of the corduroy shorts that have made their home on the top shelf for ten years. Even the black swimsuit cover-up (never worn in public) must go. Of course, I don't wear any of these items and in reality, I probably won't miss them. (The truth is, I could wear pretty much the same thing every day and be quite happy.) But Mom says if I do not get to the bottom of my closet today, she will come to my house and do it herself. I've been warned.
So if you never hear from me again, you'll know that I've fallen into the black hole of my closet, overcome with dust from my 1980's blouses.
But wait: Isn't polyester coming back in style?