The Garage Sale
A thorough clean-up cleared away more than just junk and cobwebs
THE TIME HAD COME, the writing was on the wall – we were not going to make old bones! I had been given a terminal cancer diagnosis in October 2019 with a prognosis of five years. My husband’s atrial fibrillation episodes were happening with increasing regularity – and his father died of heart-related problems at exactly his age.
We had cared for my parents in their own home for the last few years of their lives – a very bonding experience – and had bought their home when they died in their 90s. The usual clause about having to clear one’s chattels before selling had been glossed over. After all, we
were family, and they were not capable of clearing anything as their health had declined.
Out of respect, we did not touch their property while they were alive. We knew there was a lot of stuff stored in the barn, not to mention the garage and several smaller sheds on the property.
However, not all the accumulated stuff was theirs. We had substantially added to the collection of superfluous goods over the previous six years.
My scary health diagnosis was the catalyst that motivated us to start clearing the mountain of junk. My parents were from the Depression era, so hated to throw anything away. My stepfather was an engineer-turned-mechanic and loved to fix things, so collections of appliances were faithfully kept for future tinkering. Vacuum cleaners were tucked in spaces all around the rafters like empty cocoons, while old washingmachines, dishwashers and clothesdryers sat about rusting.
My mother, a great sewer, mender and all-round fix-it person, kept a dozen mattresses that the abundant vermin from the surrounding bush had discovered were warm and comfortable refuges. There were also piles of pillows and old wool blankets.
Once we had taken the unusable stuff to the tip, we decided to have a garage sale. It was quite a job setting up benches to display what we wanted to sell, and then dusting down the furniture and other items. We had renovated the house after we bought it, and so there were discarded window frames and cupboards from an old kitchen to get rid of, plus my parents’ old lounge suite and other dated furniture.
We watched the weather forecast closely in the weeks leading up to the Saturday of the garage sale, hoping it would be dry.
We’d set the opening time for 9am, but half expected people to start arriving at 8am. So we were ready when a forlorn old lady arrived early to get the best goodies. We later learned that she arrives first at every local garage sale. She chatted away to us for some time
while picking over the stuff like a curious bird. Then, people began to arrive in dribs and drabs, buying a few pieces here and there. But our big break came when a man bought both our old camper vans and my parents’ old caravan – none of which were roadworthy. They had leaks in the roofs and dings in the bodywork. Our property would look less like a used car yard once they were gone.
We re-ran the garage sale the following Saturday, advertising stuff ‘Free
For Removal’. Over the next couple of weeks the venture bore fruit, as one by one the windows, kitchen cupboards and freezer were taken. We loaded up the trailer with the leftovers and made several trips to the recycling depot at the tip. By the end of this exercise we could see space in the barn for the first time in years.
The anxiety I had been suffering from for weeks started to lift as daylight entered the barn.
What I had been worrying about was, that although we were retired when my parents died, we were now in our early 70s, and our four wonderful children were all fulltime working professionals, with their own families. Two were also living on the other side of the world.
The thought of them having to clear the property of four generations worth of rubbish was enough to fill me with guilt and dread. It certainly was not why we had our beautiful children, and the thought that the clean-up might be their last memory of us made me shudder.
Sorting the vast pile had seemed insurmountable. Although timeconsuming, it was a satisfying task.
During this process I had an
a-ha! moment about materialism, consumerism and our indulgent modern lifestyle. Sayings such as “less is more” and “if you haven’t used it in two years you don’t need it – throw it out” assumed particular significance. But “too little, too late” also competed for headspace, as I was tortured by the possibility of not completing the clearance before I ran out of energy – or time.
But, we eventually finished, halting the snowball effect of our out-of-control accumulation and hopefully saving our precious ones from a future nightmare.
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DURING THE PROCESS OF CLEARING OUT THE JUNK, I HAD AN A-HA! MOMENT