Storage…

I have found that there’s nothing like visiting rental storage units of other people to reinforce why most of us shouldn’t have rental storage units in the first place.  I visited a few of them last weekend during the traveling rummage sale held along Highway 38 and have several observations about our love affair with junk.

First, there are only about six actual categories of rummage sale stuff.

1. Toys without their original boxes.  This is because the kids who received the toys wore out the boxes playing with them.

2. Tupperware. Without lids.  Proof that there really is a direct correlation between the original price of a plastic bowl and the likelihood that there will still  be a matching lid to it once it makes to the “free stuff” box in the driveway.

3. The vases that floral arrangements came in.  All. of. them.

4. Kid clothes. Pre-stained.  Which takes a lot of pressure off, I know.

5. Blue jeans.  Piles and piles of them.  Piles.  In every size.

6. Ripped recliners.  I have been to a lot of rummage sales.  I have yet to see anyone try to wrestle a recliner into a vehicle. Ever.

We decided to test this theory by starting up north and working our way south this year instead of starting in the ‘Rapids, as we’ve done in the past.  In case you ran out of juice somewhere around Wabana and are still wondering what you missed farther north, I’m here to reassure you that you didn’t miss a thing.  Because you’d already seen the same stuff down at Gunn Park.  I promise.  Refer to the list of six categories above.

I’m seriously beginning to wonder if there’s some sort of rummage sale franchise.

Even so, I admit that I love the yearly trek up (or down) the Scenic Highway in search of bargains galore and Church Lady doughnuts as much as the next gal.  This year, the sky was bluer than blue and some of the trees were already at peak color.  All in all, it was a day worth spending with old lady friends who like the hunt for a bargain as much as I do.  And until next year, whenever I have the urge to bring some new bauble or doodad into my house, I’m going to remember the boxes of empty baby food jars and 70’s magazines paying rent to live along 38 for yet, another year….

And toss something out instead!

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