My Big Fat Yard Sale

Well it was a fine weekend for my largest in the universe yard sale. I’m really trying to simplify my life, and that was the first step. See my post dated Friday May 2nd 2008 for details on how I decided what to part with.

Now some people think a yard sale is a way to make easy money, but I have to say it was a lot of work.

First I had the weeks of looking at every one of the 18,000 items that I own, and trying to decipher what was what, where it came from and pondering what the heck I was doing with it. Honestly, I think some alien force was making items manifest out of dust bunnies and planting them in my home.

Then there were the days of categorizing items and placing them in boxes- the vintage clothes I no longer wear box, the long ignored Christmas decorations box, the odd remnants of some long forgotten lifestyle box, the overdue to be retired books box, the interesting but never used kitchen gadget box, the forgotten media box, and on and on.

Then I went through the whole -how do you price these things?- dilemma, with great advice from my sister, whose mother-in-law is a yard sale professional – mark everything with a price that is more than you want- then make a deal with shoppers. If you have something you want a good price for, mark the tag with the name Betty, and when people ask to pay less for the item, just tell them “ Oh, I can’t change the price, that belongs to Betty, she’s not here right now”.

The night before the big event, signs were made complete with big smiley faces and slogans such as- “find what you want! Right here, right now!” And “No Junk! Just great Stuff!” And “Slow down you maniac! The speed limit is 35mph and you are about to whiz past the world’s greatest yard sale with out taking the time to rubber neck!”

The most agonizing work was preformed the morning of the event- that would be the work it takes to get butt out of bed at the crack of dawn. Yes, there is no such thing as sleeping in when you are having a yard sale. Urban myths have long flourished which lead people to believe the early bird gets the worm. Early bird yard sale shoppers are legendary in themselves. Who among us has not heard the story about early bird shoppers showing up at 5 am and expecting to look through your yard sale items while they are still sitting in your living room?

I set the alarm for 6 am, and was enveloped in setting up shelves and carrying things out by 6:30. By the way, the shelves and tables needed for a large yard sale are a bit of work in themselves. If I had enough shelf space to put everything in its place, I might not be having a yard sale to begin with! I had to improvise with milk crates and lumber and what not.

Now I was getting down with the really heavy work, lugging boxes from the attic upstairs, to the yard down stairs. I had packed light, but honestly, how light can a 36 volume set of books be? How light can a box of LP’s be? (If you don’t know what I’m referring to, better find out, my inside sources tell me they are on the way back in. Imagine a hard, thin, black, burnt pancake emitting squealing sounds as it goes round and round on a carousel). How light can a built-to-last dresser be? And hey, even if the boxes are light, 3476 trips up and down the stairs is a lot of work!

I was exhausted before the sale even began!

By 7:30 the signs were up, the yard was full of artfully displayed intriguing items, I had a cup of coffee in my hand and was sitting in a lawn chair just waiting for the action to begin. Now, I have to tell you, I live on a very busy street. Night, day, summer, winter, mid-week, weekend, doesn’t matter, it’s almost always busy. It had been busy since 6 AM, and I was pleasantly surprised that no early birds had stopped and tried to run off with the proverbial worm before I was set up. Now I was willing the masses to come.

It didn’t take long for the crowds to arrive. I think some of them, being polite and not wanting to disturb, had parked up the street and been watching with binoculars. As soon as they saw my ass hit the chair, they descended like a cloud of locusts. There was pushing and shoving and elbows flying. Offers were shouted and the bargaining began.

Customer-“What will you take for this pristine art deco wine cooler?”
Me-“Does it have a tag on it?”
Customer-“Yes”
Me smirking -“ I will take thirty dollars over the marked price.”
Confused customer- “What? I will pay the marked price, not a penny more!”
Me smirking more- “All righty then.”

Customer- “Nice purse.”
Me- “Thank you, it’s a 1940’s wool covered box purse with lapis inlay on the clasp.”
Customer- “and this one?”
Me- “ Mid 1950’s alligator skin Kelly purse made in Florida and complete with complementary rain bonnet in original gift packaging.”
Customer- “ I will give you a dollar for both of them”.
Me grabbing said purses from said customers hands- “ Honey, the dollar store is across town. Just take a left out of my driveway and cross the bridge, you can’t miss it.”

Now don't get the wrong idea, I'm not a yard sale elitist. There were shelves full of 50 cent items. I had a slew of 1 dollar items. I had hundreds of items in the 3 to 5 dollar range. I know people stop at yard sales to find a deal, and by golly, I want them to find a deal and go home happy! I did have a few choice vintage items nestled among the junk-em, I mean- less costly items, and I was not going to take a dollar for two vintage purses! Folks, offer me a dollar for a 3 dollar item, I might say yes. Offer me a dollar for two 20 dollar items and I'm definitely saying no.

That’s pretty much how it went for the first 4 hours. About the time I needed a potty break so bad I was contemplating the lilac bushes along the side of the house, where I figured I could pee and watch the hordes at the same time, a friend of mine showed up and offered to set her butt in a lawn chair and give me a break.

Thank Heavens! I’m telling you folks, this yard sale stuff is serious business. You can not just up and walk away from your goods, any more than a major player in the arms race can walk away from a United Nations Inquiry. There is no time for breaks. You have to be on your game the whole time or some nice little granny is libel to take off with your antique candle sticks and leave a one dollar bill in their place.

Now I have to tell you the other urban legend about yard sales. “All the good stuff is gone early”. Hogwash! Misinformation if I ever heard it! It’s just not so! I had so much stuff out in my yard that if a constant procession of lose-fisted obsessive shoppers came by for three days in a row, I would still have plenty of good stuff for them to choose from!

Alas, as we all know, urban legends are bigger than life, and harder to kill than a cockroach. Just ask anyone in New York City about "the alligator in the sewer that comes up through your toilet and drags you into the plumbing" story, they will swear it is so, they know someone, who knows someone , who knew someone, who is now missing.

By one o'clock in the afternoon the flood had dried up and the yard sale became a dry cracked lake bed. I sat for another hour, reading a book and watching the traffic go by. I tried re-arranging items to make the display look bigger. I tried moving choice items closer to the road. I tried projecting an urgent need to stop into the minds of each driver coming along. I tried disguising my self as a yard sale shopper and pantomimed my joy at an amazing find, thinking this might overcome the urban myth.

But alas, it was not to be. They yard sale had come to a screeching halt. It was time for the next phase of real work to begin- the pack up. I had already scripted my early withdrawal contingency plan. If I had anything left over that was not vintage, it was going into the trunk of the car and straight to the local thrift store. I stuck to my plan like a duck on a June bug. I didn’t even look as I boxed everything up and set it in the car. By this time it was about 110 out and I was sweating a river. I decided it was a good thing the sale had ended, I was beat.

Like I said, this easy money is a lot of work, and I was not the only one working that day. I pulled up to the thrift store drop off door and there was a line of post-lawn-sale people de-cluttering their lives. The chatter among them was something about how many people stopped, what part of town the sale was in, and the odd balls who were looking for specific items like an easy bake oven light bulb, size 23 purple crushed velvet dress pants, a turquoise toaster oven and old fishing hooks.

While I waited in line I managed to sell a few items to people who, unlike myself, were not able to un-clutter with out instantly cluttering right back up. I then dumped the goods and made my way home. I counted the money, smiled and thought of all the open space in my house. I swear, it felt expansive and I felt lighter. I was on my way to a clutter free life.

PS Today I found this interesting related article in Time magazine. Some guy named Dave is challenging people to de-clutter until they have just 100 personal items. Seems this movement is catching on, I’m not the only one looking to simplify my life and become a more conscious consumer. You can check out his website at www.guynameddave.com