Her latest enthusiasm is to have a garage sale. She decided on it just this past weekend. We're having it on Thursday. Never mind that there's probably enough
I understand, to a certain extent. There are antiques and such in there. Mom and Dad have somehow become the storage repository for all of *their* parents' stuff. (Even though they both have siblings who could have, and should have, taken responsibility for some of it.) Mom sees it all as a potential source of extra cash-- which we could certainly use. But what Mom insists on being blind to is the fact that she lives with two people with exhausting, chronic diseases. I can't speak for Dad, but as far as I'm concerned, the energy expended in this ridiculousness is not worth the measly buck seventy-five we're going to make on it. A good garage sale requires preparation and advertising. Since we're doing this last minute and on the fly, there is time for neither. Her goal is $50. Fifty dollars for days worth of work, and if we're lucky we'll gain an extra 2 square feet of space in the garage. Sigh. Considering what she's willing to part with (barely), I think we'll be lucky to get $10 out of it.
What I haven't been quite willing to tell her yet, is whatever she doesn't get rid of now, I'm tossing when she's dead. A few sentimental items? Sure I'll keep. But I'm not hanging on to boxes of "antique" linens. Furniture. For God's sake-- there are still baby clothes in there! (My brother and I are both in our 30s!) I don't want it, I don't want the hassle of it. It's gone. If we could get rid of some of this stuff now we'd all have a better quality of life, and my brother and I won't get stuck with the burden of disposing of at least two generations worth of junk when they're gone. Mom complained all last winter that they couldn't park in the garage because it was completely full of boxes and junk (stacked 7 feet high, with only a narrow, take-your-life-into-your-hands, walk way). Dad has lumber in there that we moved to Indiana with us when we came here the *first* time. That was 1989! He won't let go of any of that, either. It's not just Mom who is clinging to this crap for all she's worth.
And what really frosts my cookies is that Mom suggested to me last night that I go through the two-- two!-- tubs in the garage that are mine to see if I can get rid of anything. Probably I can. But two rubbermaid tubs vs the whole rest of the garage (plus a rented storage space-- did I mention that yet?). Which one of these is really the problem? And she keeps coming in to ask me if I'm really sure that I don't mind if she puts out this piece of crap, or that pile of junk. I finally just told her that I'm really, really sure that she can get rid of all of it. Please!
OK, I think I better go now. I'm getting even more annoyed than I was when I started this post, and I still have to go write up the Craigslist ad. Damn it.