I had an inkling that my family and I were accumulating too much stuff. We have been in the same home for nearly ten years, have progressed through two children and have a two and a half car garage that has not had a car parked in it in over five of those years. That creates some major crap collection potential.
It wasn't until the past week that I realized how much stuff we actually have accumulated. We aren't going to be on an episode of Hoarders anytime soon. However, the amount of junk that I have removed from the above mentioned garage leaves my garage looking like the house sized equivalent of one of those fake can of peanut brittle that all the snakes come flying out of. I'm left looking around at everything that has sprung out of it and wonder how it ever fit in there in the first place.
(Quick side not on my problem with that classic prank: One, how many people are carrying around cans of peanut brittle? And B, how many people are so eager to randomly accept a piece of peanut brittle?)
Though my Tetris skills are legendary and I often hum the theme music to the game while packing the car for a long road trip, thankfully I shouldn't have the same problem here. You see, the reason I am digging out all the old junk that has been collecting dust in my garage over the past several years is because my block is having a communal garage sale (or perhaps a better name would be a "get all this crap out of my garage" sale) and I am seizing the opportunity to make this man's trash somebody else's treasure until they look at it five years down the road and wonder, "Why did I ever buy this trash?" Of course, by then it will no longer be my problem. I should probably mention: No Refunds.
While I am very much looking forward to the catharsis of ridding my home and its extensions of al unnecessary clutter, I am not looking forward to this weekend. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good haggle from time to time. I am more than willing to sit outdoors on what is forecast to be a beautiful day (unless I just jinxed it) and watch people haul away that which I no longer want. I am most certainly looking forward to having a little extra cash in my pocket. I'm even looking forward in a sick way to refilling the newly emptied space with more junk I will inevitably sell at a garage sale ten years down the line.
The problem with this weekend isn't the garage sale. It's what the garage sale coincides with.
This is the weekend of the carnival at my sons' school.
Any time not spent arguing with some stranger over how much I want for the old Mr. Coffee (no, I will not throw in any coffee) will be spent chasing my sons around a noisy, crowded, poorly constructed madhouse full of carnies and children whom are much more likely than usual to vomit suddenly on my pant leg. I will be trying to look in two directions at once as my boys inevitably sprint towards different rides and attempting to keep the teenagers from pushing them out of the way in line. There will be times when they are there with friends and their parents (Thank you friends' parents!) but the fact that the school has extended the whole shebang to four days instead of the usual three this year means I will most definitely be there more than I had planned.
Add into the mix the fact that I will be working this weekend and you have a recipe for disaster. I am seriously considering wearing a sign around my neck as a legal disclaimer deeming me not responsible for any of my actions through Monday morning. I can't be certain at what point I will snap.
Kind readers, I do not know if you are the religious sort. It does not matter to me. I ask that you pray for me anyway. Whether it be to God, Allah, Buddha, Odin or the Big Ragu, any divine assistance I might be eligible to receive this weekend would be much appreciated.
At the very least, please cross your fingers. Then keep your eyes on the news for the quirky story about the man who attacked someone at a garage sale with an old Dust Buster. That will be me.
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