I love to go to garage sales. Something about finding a treasure amongst the junk is exciting to me. I don't mind sifting through the used tennis rackets and piles of toys to find that one thing that makes it all worth it.
I almost always have to go alone, because my husband doesn't share my passion for a deal. He just thinks it looks like piles of junk. And a lot of it is.
Even though I love to shop at other people's yard sales, I will probably never have one of my own.
I'm weird like that.
It's not as though I don't have enough junk to hold a sale. Come on, I have 5 kids. I could probably make a small fortune by filling my driveway with what we don't need anymore.
It's just that the thought of other people sifting through my junk is frightening to me. And I don't haggle and don't want to be haggled. It's just not my personality.
I remember working at a post-wide garage sale when we lived in Monterey. I stood back and watched many of the foreign wives in awe as they offered pennies on the dollar for items. Ten cents for things marked ten dollars - in the first 10 minutes of the sale. I guess I'm one of those weird people that pays what the price tag says.
And so I usually just leave my bags of stuff at the "reuse" area at the transfer point and let people sift through it for free.
The only reason I'm thinking of this is because I've been busy rearranging bedrooms again and getting rid of bags of stuff we just don't need anymore. If I've had the piece of clothing through 4 kids and no one has worn it yet, then we probably could do without it, right?
Part of me wishes that I were a garage sale kind of a gal. I'd probably have a few hundred extra dollars in my pocket right now. Maybe someday I'll get up the guts...