Free Table

I’ve made quite a bit of progress over the past couple weeks in removing clutter from the house. I don’t like just throwing stuff away, so I have a variety of ways of distributing the clutter.

First, two chairs and my old light fixtures went to my sister’s house for a moving sale she is having today.

Then, I sent a load of stuff with my brother to his house in Wisconsin. He came over one day with his new trailer, and he basically shopped in my basement and attic. Surprisingly enough, he took a pink iron day bed. I’m not sure how a pink bed is going to look in his rustic (though beautiful) log cabin, but functionality won out over looks. He really liked the fact that it had a space saving trundle.

I took a step or two back in the clutter removal process when I offered to take some stuff from my mother to distribute via my infamous free table. I set the free table up near the road for people who drive by our house on the way to and from the transfer station (the dump when we first moved here) on Saturdays. There was a little hiccup in this plan when Dave saw the stuff from my mother in the garage, and asked, “You’re not giving this stuff away, are you?” When we set the stuff up on the table, he asked “That’s not my Connect Four game, is it?” Most of the stuff went. I am amazed when someone stops by for quite a lengthy bit of time picking up and carefully inspecting each item. I often wonder what kind of cost-benefit analysis they are conducting.

Yesterday, I made a trip into Lowell to do some further distribution.  The Wish Project took my old lightbulbs and some other items.

Then it was on to an antique shop to sell what I thought might be antiques. I went into the store first and asked the owner if he was willing to look at a few items. Unfortunately, he took me quite literally. After I hauled the boxes into the store from my car and knocked into a display sending things clattering to the ground, he told me he was willing to look, but he doesn’t buy. And he told me my stuff was junk. We did not part on the best of terms.

Then it was on to Garnick’s Music. There are 3 very cheerful men who work here. Seriously. They obviously enjoy what they do. Again, they told me my stuff was junk. Apparently, the people who are buying vinyl these days are young kids who find phonographs in their parents’ attic and who want Jimi Hendricks, not The Osmond Brothers.  (I do want to note, however, that while I was there one customer was asking for The Partridge Family, which made me wonder where my Partridge Family albums are.) They offered me 10 DVDs for my records. One of them also told me I looked way too young to have a 24-year-old and that I was one of the most beautiful women in the world. We parted on good terms.

I still have a few remaining items that I think The Epilepsy Foundation will come and get.

When I was at my mother-in-laws recently, she mentioned that the garage and my father-in-law’s workshop needed to be cleaned out. I took a look, and I completely agreed with her. (I also found out that my husband inherited his organizational skills from his father.) I mentioned to her that we could rent a dumpster to clean some of the stuff out. She was noncommittal. I had Dave mention it to her again, and she told him to tell me in no uncertain terms to stay away from her stuff with my dumpster and my free table. That made me laugh. But if she ever changes her mind, I’m there in a heartbeat.