Biggest Garage Sale Rule for Slobs – Bring nothing back into the house.
I had my garage sale two weeks ago tomorrow. I haven’t brought anything back into the house, but there were several bags of clothing sitting in the garage, producing guilt.
Several, as in, they filled the back of my Suburban when I loaded them up this morning.
I love hand-me-downs. There’s nothing like searching for treasure in a big black trash bag. And people know this about me. I can remember one fall when the boys were small. It was the first day of cool weather and people were starting to change over their kids’ clothes. At least two friends called to see if I wanted their son’s hand-me-downs. Ummm, of course!
I know who to give the bags of boy stuff to. I know who to give the maternity stuff to. But I’m having trouble with the girl stuff. It seems that our daughter is the youngest girl we know without big sisters. I’ve been asking and asking, and haven’t found anyone. Since one big bag is full of the stuff I didn’t put in our sale because it was given to us, I really wanted to bless someone else with it. (I also had another huge bag full of the stuff that didn’t sell in our sale . . . and we sold a lot!)
This girl stuff was big weight on my shoulders. I heard of someone who used to go to our church who might need it . . . but that would require searching for her, finding her, reminding her who I am, coordinating a way to get the clothes to her . . . too many steps for this slob.
This morning I loaded up the bags to go see if our local thrift store was accepting donations (they often are “full” at this time of year), and then got a call from a friend who was in the middle of her own garage sale, and who had given me many of the clothes in the one bag. I “blessed” her by giving her both girl bags, and telling her to sell it and keep the money. (And then SHE has to figure out what to do with it.)
Hand-me-downs are a blessing, but I often let them turn into a burden, by not being able to say no to the fourth person who asks if I need them. I can’t handle the excess. I always make piles when I go through a box of clothes, separating out the ones to keep and the ones to “donate.” However, the donate pile rarely leaves my garage, and it soon becomes invisible (to me) clutter. The frustration over that clutter probably negates any joy that I received from the free clothes.