This morning my husband randomly decided that we should have a garage sale tomorrow and and that I should go through the crawlspace when I had time and look for stuff to get rid of. There are several problems with this plan, but two came to mind immediately. First, I would not have time at all, and second, I am such a pack rat that no one would pay for anything that I would part with. But good old Adam was keen, even printing off "Garage Sale" signs and price stickers at work.
Once the kids were in bed, I spent about three seconds helping Adam go through the crawlspace. During that time, I found some baby toys that Jadzia could play with, some sandals that I could totally wear in this weather, and an almost brand new pair of shorts that still fit. Sweet! Not much junky enough to sell though.
Bored and unmotivated, I came upstairs and looked up how to have a yard sale, which only fueled my niggling feeling that planning such an event, with less than twenty-four hours notice, was a bad idea.
I then went on facebook, with the intention of making an invite, but found that my friend is organizing a Mom 2 Mom sale on the same day. (Actually she's been talking about it for days and days, I just didn't clue in that it was this Saturday). Anyway, I felt guilty trying to steal her thunder, so I posted no invite.
I told Adam that I didn't want to have a garage sale (it goes against my lazy pack rat nature) and he told me that he would do all the work and that I don't have to worry. Now I feel both guilty and resentful for being made to feel guilty. I told him that nobody would buy anything. He bet me that someone would buy at least one thing.
So we'll make 25 cents.
I know, I should be supportive, but it goes both ways. Just the other day, my husband told me that I couldn't become an astronaut.