Time for a Garage Sale

This weekend I'm having a garage sale. I hate having garage sales.

I've held two garage sales in my life. The first was twenty-seven years ago. We had lived in the house for a couple of years and had already accumulated too much "stuff." Having a garage sale seemed like a fun, easy way to spend a Saturday and rid the basement of some of its many unwanted items. But it was neither fun nor easy. Advertising, sorting, cleaning off, setting up, dragging everything up from the basement, selling next to nothing, putting it all back, and not to mention I was four months pregnant! What was I thinking?

Skip ahead thirteen years. My thirteen year old daughter (yes, the same child I carried during my first disastrous experience) asks if she can have a garage sale to help finance a trip she hopes to take. Just as the pain of bringing her into the world has faded, so has the memory of the garage sale undertaken while waiting for her to arrive. So, I said yes! Why not? It sounded like such an enterprising idea. Let the child work for a goal she hopes to achieve! Let the child work did I say? Advertising, sorting, cleaning off, setting up, dragging everything up from the basement, selling next to nothing, putting it all back, and not to mention I had two younger children and a very busy schedule! What was I thinking?

This weekend I'm having a garage sale. I hate having garage sales.

Showing In the Morning

My realtor called today to set an appointment for a showing tomorrow morning. Other than the initial open house, this will be the fifth time in four weeks my home has been shown. Not bad, I'm told, for this time of year. No interest, nor any offers, but still I'm told things are going well.

So, tonight I took a little extra care in straightening up the kitchen and checking the bathrooms. The iron and ironing board were stashed away along with any other offensive household objects. I'm told people shopping for a new house don't want to be reminded of what everyday living entails. In this house, if they buy it, rooms will remain clean and no chores will need to be done.

Then my teenage daughter came home from her summer job announcing she was cleaning up her bedroom. Good timing. Although we often differ on the definition of a clean room any improvement is welcome. I won't and don't clean her room for her, even lately. I figure, the more I contradict my spoken expectations with opposite actions, the less cooperation I will get. So far, my maternal psychology usually works and she does her share, or at least what she deems to be her share. And on the days her bed is not made and yesterday's clothes remain on the floor, I remind her I but don't make a fuss.

Because, no matter how much HGTV I watch, I just won't believe that an unmade bed or a sink full of dishes can be potential deal breakers.

In the Beginning

We bought the house in March of 1979. We were the third owners since it was built in 1922. It was a commitment we were eager to make, despite the daunting financial obligation of a $229 monthly mortgage payment. Property taxes and homeowners' insurance included!

The new home was located in the same South Shore of Long Island town in which we had grown up, so there was no shortage of family members to help with the moving, fixing up, and settling in. The house was small but charming with its high ceilings, detailed moldings and a lovely fireplace. My favorite part.

But even a charming fifty - seven year old house is not without its flaws. For one thing the kitchen was very dated. But we would take care of that in time.

For Sale: Thirty Years of My Life

Since signing on the dotted line a few weeks back, I have committed myself to an unfamiliar six month experience intended to result in the upheaval of life as, and where, I have known it for close to thirty years.

My home is for sale. My choice, my plan, and my terms. But it is still fraught with uncertainty and indecision. Not to mention frustration.

So many things to do. So many options to face. And...not the best of times to be doing it in.