Chaos in The Craftroom! When I have a garage sale, it is necessary to remove the two 6 foot and one 3 foot tables from my sewing room. The "STUDIO". I have several more tables in the storage room in the carport. They are buried under Fred's keyboards and bins of cords and amps and music detritus. We have a lot of stuff! It's when I start to search for something that I realize how MUCH there is. The older I get the more I am aware that these belongings don't mean anything. How can they if I have even forgotten that I have them?
So, My Brother Glenn and I joined forces once again, to commit a sale.
Pricing is all relative- there is the price You paid, the price it's Valued at, the price you Want for it and the price the buyer is Willing to pay.
First of all, the moment after the cashier hands you the receipt, the value has just decreased by 50%. If you set up a table in the parking lot and tried to resell your new acquisition- would you be successful?
Location is everything, isn't it?
Selling out of your garage or carport is a whole lot different than St. Armand's Circle. People want to say "it was a steal" not: "they robbed me!".
So, you think because you have had an item for 10 or 20 years and cherished it -that other people should pay for that? At least admire the patina of age and crackle of time?
When some chick picks up my butter yellow Homer Laughlin Bowl and says- "This is old- I'll give you a quarter for it" I cringe.
I have buyers ask if I had a store- did it go out of business? I say "yes, The Kim's Comfort & Joy Store- never heard of it? That's why we went out of business." They say "Really?" I answer "No, not really." They seem disappointed somehow, maybe they would like to be able to explain why I have such good stuff at my yard sales. It's not crap. It's clutter. When I take it all outside, my home becomes more simple, serene. Less chaotic.
I spoke with a lovely woman named Susan who bought some of my painted shabby chic pieces and she said that because she has never been married or had any children that she loves her things. They take on an inordinate importance to her.
I said, yes, I understand that. My parents love their things. Things can't hurt you. They hold memories and moments of your life in their shadow.
If you sell something someone gave you does that mean you don't treasure their love? Maybe it means you are secure enough in their love not to need a reminder of it.
Maybe it means that I need to feel lighter, less encumbered by the weight of material things. I want to lose more weight. Feel lighter in body and spirit and surroundings. I want to float. I want to fly.
I really want to eliminate some of the junk.
The things I have accumulated and love but don't need and would forget if they were out of sight.
Those things can go live someplace else and enhance someone else's life.
I need my fabric and my sewing machine and my Dog.
Maybe my red riding hood or Nicol Sayre witch. Those things give me so much joy that I can't let go. Not yet.
We did the sale for three days and now I need to put it all back. My sewing room is a mess- but an opportunity to organize again, really. Oh, I am such an optimist, aren't I?
There is a sale every month at Riverview High School and I might do that next month. Then I will start giving it away or discarding it until I can walk through my house and feel light again.
Maybe this is part of growing older?
Maybe it's the gypsy singing in my ear?
Knowing that you can't take it with you and no one is going to value it as much as you do anyway.
I have always tried to fill that empty spot inside my heart with stuff.
Getting back my childhood dreams of presents under the tree.
Now, at 46, I realize that I have all that I need in my heart.
If I feel hollowed out some days then I need to rest and work in the garden or take a walk or wash the dog.
That helps fill me back up.
It's too ironic that I have begun to feel this way about stuff considering that I Make stuff.
I want to create more of the very same stuff that I now know that I can live without.
Isn't that funny?