Exfoliation

I have been handed a mythical Volkswagon-sized loofah sponge to scrub away all the dead, frivolous, and pointless possessions we have accumulated over our lives as a family. Packing will force you to give your stuff a good, long, steely-eyed look and wonder why have we kept this broken shower caddy around for so long?

Other sentences that we have been saying to each other are “what is this?”, “when did we get this?”, “why did we buy this?”, “are we ever going to use this?”, and “would anyone buy a broken cookie jar at a garage sale?”

I would love to have a garage sale, but I am afraid nobody will want to buy the things we have to sell. Most people who go to garage sales on the weekends are looking for priceless antiques and collectibles that the sellers are too dim to realize they have. Garage sale-goers often have “Antique Roadshow” delusions of grandeur. If they come to our garage sale, they will find a ficus tree, a coffee mug holder, old sheets, a rickety changing table, an pillow with an owl on it, and a broken cookie jar. If I am going to spend two days sitting at a card table in my garage with a cash box, I want to actually sell something. I suppose we could list our junk on ebay, but it could end up here and that would be embarrassing.

Consequently, a lot of things are going to be donated and the rest is going to be thrown out. It was kind of nice opening my streamlined closet this morning and thinking how sleek and organized it looked. I should strive to adopt a more simplified life all-around.