Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
That's What She Said
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Tuesday
Sep152009

One Woman's Trash...

Having a yard sale is so much more than just selling your old stuff. It's a sociological experiment. From the elderly gentleman who emerged from his Cutlass Sierra with his becurlered wife shouting "You Got a slow cooker? I need a slow cooker!" To the white whiskered man who pulled up in an old Chevy pick-up offering up tales of how terrible it is to suffer from diabetes. I don't doubt him.

The yard sale got off to a frantic start with Serge and I trying to duct tape markered signs around our neighborhood. The wind, for some reason, was very against our yard sale and fought us at every step. Then we raced back home, accompanied by the smell of Violet's fully-loaded diaper, so we could drag everything from the garage right at eight, when the yard sale was to begin. Early birds were already hovering at the edge of our property, with one man trotting right over to the books we were dragging out and promptly purchasing fifteen. Turnout, I'd say, was awesome! Y'all weren't too sexy for my yard sale after all! A steady stream of scavengers had me sitting on my lawn well past our original end time of 1pm. It was kind of like gambling. If I just sit here for another half hour I know I'll make 25 more bucks! From shy yardsaler to maniacal auctioneer. By the end of the day I was shouting deals at folks who wandered onto my lawn. Shoes, you like those shoes? I'll give you five pair for five dollars!! You like that picture, I'll give it to you for a buck. A buck! Here and take this too! FOR FREE!

I think even Serge was a tad taken aback.

All in all we pretty much unloaded everything to the tune of $400. For sitting on our front lawn for five hours of very excellent people-watching. I'd do it every weekend if I had enough shit. Was very freeing, though, to get rid of so much crap. So! With the yard sale haul and Serge's recent paycheck for some writing he's done (VERY EXCITING NEWS, MORE ON THAT LATER!!!) we're well on our way to paying off the credit card, Violet's remaining hospital bill and getting our $1,000 emergency fund in place. After that? Three months of expenses socked away and we are good to go! Then the investment process begins. I'm sorry, is this boring you? Saving money is like porn to me now. I get all juicy just thinking about it. Also, what I just said there? Gross.

Listen. I'm going through some crazy phase. First, I keep wanting to cut off all my hair. Like, short. Really short. So that I never have to brush it again. Also, I'm sick of jeans and t-shirts. But they're my uniform! But I'm sick of them. Am kind of thinking I may rummage the local second-hand store for a bunch of funky dresses. Yeah, weird dresses. I could really get into that. No more hair brushing and never again having to worry about how my ass looks in a pair of jeans. I could REALLY get into that.