Wednesday, May 23, 2007

A Suburban Summer Conflict


We are going to have a garage/yard sale in June. Yes, us packrats are actually going to try to get people to buy our junk. It's our first time. So, we have a lot of junk. I think we are going to be lucky to bag 20 bucks out of the whole deal. And hardly make a dent out of the clutter around the house. If it was up to me, I would rather haul it all to the nearest Goodwill. Besides, both of us sell things for a living. Why invite the whole town via newspaper announcement to our home on a day off? But the idea of getting something out of nothing is irresistible to my husband, and what better way to get to know everyone who lives around us?




If this is an easy way to be sociable then I'm all in. No making dinner, cleaning house and heck, they might even buy something. They probably think we are kind of weird already, so let's make it official. My co-workers are getting into the act, so even better.





As preparation, I'm going around the house trying to come up with a list of things that have to go. After the list is prepared, Dennis and I will have several rounds of negotiations about what will actually go into the yard sale and what will it would be worth. Already, I can tell we both have two separate motives for this sale. My motive is to get rid of stuff. His, even though he has not clearly stated it, is to make money. We both feel the other is ridiculous. The battle between the organizer/neatfreak and the supersalesman is on, after many years of building up steam.





I've already cleaned out our bedroom closet, linen closet, spare room closet so I can begin my initial advance with pricing. I anticipate his counterattack with overcharging for the 15 year old BBQ. He's also throwing in his 30 year old snow ski's as back up. Since he already knows half the neighborhood better than I do, it will be up to his charm and entrepreneurship to take me out at the front line. But he doesn't know about my flank attack with 40 percent of our books at a dime apiece. I might throw in the plywood bookshelves in for free. Knowing his expertise in strategy, I have obtained intelligence reports of a commando raid with near new pricing on his hand me down suits from an un-named relative. Since he is of average size and takes good care of his clothes, this could prove the winning move.





I've got to come up with a plan utilizing the barely used kitchen appliances. This might be a sacrifice, but all is fair in love and war. I'll keep you posted on the ongoing combat. I've engaged a relentless opposition, but surrender is not an option.

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