September 3, 2021 at 5:02 p.m.
Sale isn’t worth giving up sanity
On the Line
Going to yard sales is fun. Having your own yard sale isn’t fun.
It’s not the day-of activities that make it awful, like bartering with customers on already undervalued items or scanning your sale for thieves about to steal your stuff. It’s not the fact that when it rains you’re rushing merchandise inside before it gets soaked. (Although those aspects aren’t too thrilling, either –– especially when it pours on and off throughout the day.)
It’s the preparation that makes your week leading up to the sale a nightmare.
If you’re anything like me –– a procrastinating perfectionist, one of the worst combinations –– you’ll spend your time each evening accomplishing little and find yourself up until 1 or 2 a.m. the next morning wondering why you ever wanted to hold this dumb sale.
If you’ve never done one before, like me, you’ll try mapping out your yard, configuring prices, organizing your stock, finding more items to sell from your closet or grandmother’s house, designing the layout again, re-configuring prices after you realize you’re undervaluing items and then immediately marking down prices once more so your stuff will sell after you recall why you’re having this stupid sale in the first place.
And, if you’re like me, you may find yourself surrounded by your junk on the living room floor the night before, making a vow to never host another yard sale after this one.
A good cry, some Netflix and that milkshake your boyfriend brought home may help you out of your pre-sale panic attack. But one question remains: “Will I ever be ready for this sale?”
If you’re like me, nope. You won’t.
But that doesn’t matter, because you’re still having one anyway.
It won’t be the end of the world if your stuff isn’t all ready to go. You can stick those last price tags on while you’re waiting for customers. Organizing every detail is a waste because most items will be picked up and moved around constantly. Any items you don’t sell or put out can always be donated to Goodwill or a shelter.
There is a sort of satisfaction, too, that comes with selling your old stuff to strangers and hearing how they’ll be used or seeing just how happy they are to find said item.
Take the little boy we sold our automatic Nerf guns to, for example. He lugged those shooters –– they had to be about as tall as him –– back to the car with the biggest grin on his face. He’s never had Nerf guns like these, his parents explained.
In the end, it’ll be just fine. You’ll have your sale and be done with it. Say good riddance to all your junk and take a long, well-deserved nap after the fact. You did it.
Props to all the folks who tote out their old belongings and curios each year during the week of the Tri-State Antique Gas Engine and Tractor Show. How that doesn’t stress you out to the point of near insanity, I may never understand.
Next time, I think I’ll opt for visiting your yards instead of setting up shop in my own. It’s just better that way.
It’s not the day-of activities that make it awful, like bartering with customers on already undervalued items or scanning your sale for thieves about to steal your stuff. It’s not the fact that when it rains you’re rushing merchandise inside before it gets soaked. (Although those aspects aren’t too thrilling, either –– especially when it pours on and off throughout the day.)
It’s the preparation that makes your week leading up to the sale a nightmare.
If you’re anything like me –– a procrastinating perfectionist, one of the worst combinations –– you’ll spend your time each evening accomplishing little and find yourself up until 1 or 2 a.m. the next morning wondering why you ever wanted to hold this dumb sale.
If you’ve never done one before, like me, you’ll try mapping out your yard, configuring prices, organizing your stock, finding more items to sell from your closet or grandmother’s house, designing the layout again, re-configuring prices after you realize you’re undervaluing items and then immediately marking down prices once more so your stuff will sell after you recall why you’re having this stupid sale in the first place.
And, if you’re like me, you may find yourself surrounded by your junk on the living room floor the night before, making a vow to never host another yard sale after this one.
A good cry, some Netflix and that milkshake your boyfriend brought home may help you out of your pre-sale panic attack. But one question remains: “Will I ever be ready for this sale?”
If you’re like me, nope. You won’t.
But that doesn’t matter, because you’re still having one anyway.
It won’t be the end of the world if your stuff isn’t all ready to go. You can stick those last price tags on while you’re waiting for customers. Organizing every detail is a waste because most items will be picked up and moved around constantly. Any items you don’t sell or put out can always be donated to Goodwill or a shelter.
There is a sort of satisfaction, too, that comes with selling your old stuff to strangers and hearing how they’ll be used or seeing just how happy they are to find said item.
Take the little boy we sold our automatic Nerf guns to, for example. He lugged those shooters –– they had to be about as tall as him –– back to the car with the biggest grin on his face. He’s never had Nerf guns like these, his parents explained.
In the end, it’ll be just fine. You’ll have your sale and be done with it. Say good riddance to all your junk and take a long, well-deserved nap after the fact. You did it.
Props to all the folks who tote out their old belongings and curios each year during the week of the Tri-State Antique Gas Engine and Tractor Show. How that doesn’t stress you out to the point of near insanity, I may never understand.
Next time, I think I’ll opt for visiting your yards instead of setting up shop in my own. It’s just better that way.
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