fighting the hoard

Today, in the last day of my garage sale, I realized how people become hoarders. I had everything marked down 50%, and I found myself bringing some of it in. I was OK to part with it yesterday, when I was going to make at least a bit of money on it. But now that I’m basically giving it away, everything has a sentimental value.

No one else will know the history of this stuff! How did I lose the drawstring to those running shorts? The new owner will never know. Holden learned to walk with that walker. It all means something! Not to you, you are just a customer. But to me, it is important! To me it meant something.

Yesterday Steve tightened up the bolts on my puzzle table for a customer (ah, the things we do for other people. We will clean our house because guests are coming over, or tighten loose bolts to sell a piece of furniture, but when it is just us, our property doesn’t get the kind of attention it deserves). Afterwards, when the table was like new, I found myself wanting to keep it.

I will find a new place for it in this house, I have a new appreciation for it, now that I was this close to losing it.

But I did let it go. Most of it, I let go without giving it too much thought. But I did keep a pile of baby clothes for nostalgia, or because “just in case,” or because I am a mom and that is what moms do. I remember the garage sale I got my favorite shirt of Holden’s at: the mom nearly shed tears selling it to me. It was one of her favorites, too. “I have pictures,” she said to me, “I keep reminding myself of that.” And it was her I thought of when I put aside my pile of baby clothes. Her and my mom and my aunt, who have both also kept baby things for sentimental reasons.

And yes, I have the pictures, but I can one-up that lady at the garage sale last year. I kept the shirt, too.

P.S. I did sell my puzzle table. I’m trying not to think about it.

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