STUFF

I once heard a comedy bit on 'Stuff' in which stuff was described like this, "ever notice how your stuff is stuff but other people stuff is shit". My question is when does your stuff become shit, and then, when does your shit become stuff that other people want?

When?

When you have a garage sale.

I myself am not a huge fan of the garage sale. They always start at some god forsaken hour. Often you have people knocking on your door the night before wanting to see your wares, hoping to get a jump on things. And they have a tendency to attract a certain personality. My apologies if you are a serial garage sale-er but believe me when I tell you that garage sale trolling is a kind of addiction and garage sale-ers are addicts.

We are no strangers to garage sales. We have had a few over the years and each time I have always finish the day with a resounding "well I'm not doing that again". The last one was when we moved from suburbia to our rural hamlet. It was a bit of an unmitigated disaster. The ad didn't go into the paper. We had too much shit, sorry stuff. There were too many people rifle-ling through it. I am sure we lost a couple of things that shouldn't have gone. And of course that old chestnut, it started at some god forsaken hour and seemed to linger on and on and on. Now we are doing it all over again. Technically, though, this garage sale is not our garage sale but we still have our jobs to do.

This garage sale is specifically for our daughter who is having her own Year of the Chicken. But for her it is more like the Year of the Bald Eagle. She is making very huge changes in her life by pulling up roots here in Oz and moving to the US of A. To follow her dreams, make a new life and be with her man. First though, we have some shit, sorry stuff, to get rid of.

It's not going to be easy downsizing her life of eight years in a two bedroom townhouse to a few packing cases. We are still deliberating over furniture, books, knickknacks, kitchen ware and cd's. I'm sure she has got it under control. Our job is not to question what is staying, what is going and what ultimately will make the trip with her to America. Our job is to provide the trailer, man to stall and help sell her shit, sorry stuff.

Stuff (Part 2)

It’s the day after. And boy does it feel like the day after. I’m suffering from a massive garage sale ‘hangover’.

A small portion of our daughter's garage sale shit, sorry stuff.

 As predicted we started at some god forsaken hour. Of course there were the hard core garage sale-ers knocking on the door before the advertised time and at the end of the day there was a resounding “well I’m not doing that again”. So after yet another garage sale, which was depressingly the same as all the other garage sales, I have decided to present to you the benefit of the wisdom of my experience. 

GARAGE SALE LESSONS LEARNT

1. COFFEE IS ESSENTIAL – someone SHOULD do a coffee run for proper coffee (no instant coffee). But thank you Mum for ensuring we had cold cans of soft drink and bottles of water on hand. It was much appreciated. 
2. DON'T hold a garage sale in a suburb where the population consists of mostly old men (over the age of 70 that is). Whose only goal in life is to wear pants held up by a rope and pay a shilling (that’s 20 cents in today’s language) for a house full of shit, sorry stuff, like some bad scene out of 'Oliver'. My apologies to the over 70 male population but let's face it you know I’m right about this. 
3. The Op Shop lady is your best friend. Although you won’t get anything for your shit, sorry stuff, the Op Shop lady always welcomes you with open arms and a grimace disguised as a smile as you load her up, apologise profusely and try desperately to hide those items that you know she will never sell. That’s why you giving them to the Op Shop lady in the first place. Right.
4. NEVER, EVER under any circumstance say “well I’m not doing that again”. Why? Because of the breeding tendencies of shit, sorry stuff. And because of Op Shops ladies. And Because while shit, sorry stuff, exists in our lives so must the garage sale.

And finally. Next time we have a garage sale I’m hanging up a sign that says;

DRESS CODE:

OLD MEN WEARING ROPES AS BELTS WILL NOT BE SERVED

even if you have a shilling to spend