My husband and I sold our home a couple of weeks ago. We decided it was time to downsize and move into something smaller now that two of our three children are in college and our youngest is one year away from flying the coop. I did not realize what an overwhelming task this would be. Making the decision to sell our home was not the most difficult part either, deciding which parts of our personal history would end up in our garage with bright orange and yellow tags and bargain basement prices was. How on earth does a person decide what is priceless and what is not? How does one put a price tag on memories? And then once that difficult task is done, how does one sit in a garage filled with those memories and wait for people to come and haggle over treasures that once felt irreplaceable?
And the garage sale shoppers! My gosh, I was completely unprepared. These people are intense. They are seasoned bargain hunters with bloodhound instincts. They sniff out the bargains quickly and skillfully. Family treasures are magically bartered down to the exact amount of loose change in their pockets. And then they are gone as fast as they appeared, off to the next garage loaded with another family’s history and memories.
I think I learned something today. I’m not a garage sale kind of gal. Next time I think I’ll just call Salvation Army. I don’t like selling memory lane to the lowest bidder.
And this is why I have been rather sporadic with the blogging lately. We don’t move for another 5 weeks, but I do hope to be back at the computer with more regularity soon.