APFwebs: Letters from the Editor

Space… it’s

…the final frontier.

At last we honored a longtime promise: a garage sale. The inside had become a Kitty-Hippy-wide path through stuff. We gave three days to advertising, signage, dusting, pricing, and grouping.

Our ads cited a 9AM start. We guessed, morning coffee with time to scoot stuff from the garage to the driveway. Early-birds came a bit after 7: a mad rush until noon. Exhausting: the day’s heat peaked around 11. By noon we and the crowd tuckered out. Some of our stuff was near too hot to touch.

We had lots of antiques, like an estate sale. Some noted the difference of our stuff from the usual. Yet most sales took stuff like surplus kitchenware, linens, luggage, and tools; freebies from business promos (camera store tripod, auto sale toolkit); picture frames and clocks. The usual garage sale stuff.

By 2PM—sale end—we sat in garage shade. An occasional visitor passed in to offer a cursory glance. We scooted less stuff back in to newfound space.

Not much furniture—even quality stuff—goes at a garage sale. We sold a pie safe, cedar chest, small chest, and floor lamp; and kept a recliner, ottoman, couch, coffee table, TV stand, table lamp, and other stuff. Antique stuff remained untouched. A straggler returned to buy a folding bike.

At 5PM, we went to a favored (¡air-conditioned!) watering hole for much-deserved aps and cocktails.

The next day, buyers picked up stained glass. The day after, we trucked a load of stuff to one second-handler. We called another second-handler to pick up the larger stuff. The antiques we will consign. Kitty Hippy will miss her couch.

We’ll discretely not mention the amount of stuff we’ve kept but shouldn’t. Just as an inside joke, we may see how it looks to have a vehicle parked in the garage for the first time in oh so many years. Then I’ll take my laundry to the garage.

Less stuff. More space.