I got up in the attic yesterday and conducted an archaeological dig. Fortunately for me, it wasn’t a literal dig and so I didn’t tunnel down through the ceiling of the house’s entryway and plummet two floors to my demise (or severe maiming).
No, I was up there looking for anything that is garage sale worthy. After two years of vacillating between”Yes, lets!” and “I’d rather be bludgeoned to death with a stale baguette!“, the Biff family has finally decided to jettison some of its ballast. What can be more fun than rummaging around in an attic that is coated in a thick layer of dust and pollen that has been accumulating for decades? It is also riddled with a half dozen squirrel’s nests (now abandoned, which is a story for another day), and strung with the flocking of a thousand spider’s webs (no doubt black widows or brown recluses). Obviously not a place I would choose willingly to go.
But it must be done. If I don’t do it, no one will. The attic was somehow declared as my sole dominion by some vote that I was not a part of . So much for democracy!
But back to the dig. It was a veritable
garbage dump treasure trove of rubbish interesting artifacts that will fetch a pretty penny … or pennies of any condition, as well as a few plug nickels, wooden nickels, and bottle caps. “Pretty pennies” is an apt description because in a garage sale, items typically bring in pennies on the dollar. From an economical standpoint, it makes just as much sense to chuck the stuff into the trash bin as it does to try and sell it. But we don’t have garage sales to make lots of money. We have garage sales to avoid the guilt we would suffer from throwing perfectly good stuff in the trash.
Besides, my trash might be someone’s treasure! Who wouldn’t want a happy meal toy from a 1990s visit to McDonald’s? Or a collection of keys for cars, houses, and locks that I have not owned for decades? Or a gear shift knob from a 1974 Chevy Vega? Or a vacuum tube from a 1950’s vintage Silvertone radio? Or a wall plug for an early 2000’s vintage printer? Or a Mason jar full of nuts, bolts, nails, allen wrenches, washers, picture hangers, grommets, and other assorted doo-dads? Or a cassette tape of Steely Dan’s greatest hits? Or a cigar box full of seashell fragments from a trip to the Gulf 20 years ago?
So see? I was not lying. This is all great stuff! I will certainly be able to retire in luxury after
fobbing off selling this load of old cobblers fine collectibles to an unsuspecting public discerning collectors.