If you read a previous blog, you’ll remember that I recently hosted a multi-family yard sale for our church. The six weeks leading up to it was a lot of fun; I thoroughly enjoyed rhyming at will and seeing my poetry in print.  

And when it came time to label and organize, I also had fun—the camaraderie was well worth the admission price. But we had a bit of a rocky beginning. After only one person showed up on my doorstep to help, I sent out a loud and clear SOS, and the worker bees buzzed in to help over the next day and a half. Organizing them—or, in some cases, the reverse—paid out in dividends. After spending a sleepless night wondering whether mischievous teenagers planned to cart away the many tables we’d covered with treasures and adorned in plastic overnight—we alerted the police in case they wanted to do a drive-by—I recovered enough to sell my first bargain at 6 a.m. Seventeen hundred dollars later, a tired euphoria set in.

I expected to be somewhat consumed by the event beforehand, what with having to sacrifice my garage—and eventually my living room, dining room, and kitchen. I had arranged pick-up by a charity on the following Monday. Once the pick-up was complete, I would wash my hands of the affair. What I didn’t anticipate was continued involvement.

After my clean-up crew packed everything nice and neat, I thought I was through. Dead tired, my husband and I headed toward our next function and out to dinner. Bedtime couldn’t come soon enough. But the next afternoon, I found myself examining the crowded garage. A niggling thought wormed its way into my tired brain: What if I tried to sell this on craigslist? What if I washed that and lowered the price? I just couldn’t believe what some people passed up. My brain might have been screaming, “Clean out the garage!” but my hands laid claim to treasures right and left. Soon the gigantic pile of leftover stuff became two piles: one for charity and one for the next yard sale. You heard me right. My husband thought I’d become unhinged.

So now my garage remains crowded but in a very methodical way, and my attic claims a few treasures of its own. Anyone need a size 14 wedding dress, stroller, Coca-Cola mobile, tailgate net, antique medicine cabinet, rolling backpack, canisters, or motion sensor? How about boxes and boxes of clothes organized by size? You’ll find them on craigslist for a steal.