Morning becomes electric

Garage sale, at the unpopular time of 3 to 6! Today!
Not.
The newspaper ad did not appear yesterday, nor today.

Why didn’t you run my ad? You sent me an email confirmation!
Did you open the email from us? It said we needed credit card confirmation.
Crap.

New garage sale times: Saturday 7 – 11 and Sunday 8 – 12.
Come and take it all! Price greatly reduced: I pay, you take.

My Two Men and a Truck are a dream. FUW*s: No problem!
It takes them only two hours to clear out the house.




Favorite moment of the morning (and the commencement of the Ocean author's upswing): when Susanne D comes and lays out this in front of me:

food, latte, Onion


Least favorite moment: it’s a toss up: when I take a hammer to my daughter’s bed to get it out of the room, or when I leave Susanne and Sarah to deal with the mountain of rejects and garbage and garage sale items while I follow the truckers to our various destinations.

Second favorite moment: when I return to the house and find that S & S have single-handedly cleared most of the recyclables and refuse out of the house.

Most communal moment: when the neighborhood kids and their parents converge in my driveway and look through my loot, buying some of it and just enjoying playing around. In truth, they are the best neighbors ever. Hard to leave you guys, really hard.

Susanne and two of my favorite boys on the block


Julie and Anne (sob; oh I do hate leaving you)

The surprising moment of the day: a stranger comes over, looks at the plant “shelves” that I have loved (from Smith Hawken, for those who value snot appeal), goes away, comes back, buys all three and says “good bye and good luck, Ocean.” Whaaaat? [Turns out he is a reader (thus he would know about the garage sale even as the rest of the world does not) – a regular one at that (hi again). He promised photos of how his plants will look on my gorgeous tiered stands. I’ll link, for sure.]

We finished late, Susanne, Sarah and I. So tired – I am so tired. But brimming with gratitude. Happy gratitude. You heard it here – the Ocean author is out of her hell hole.

P.S. I got some fantastic news today. What, you want to know? Check in on October 21st14th.

*Frequently Uttered Words

the hours

4 pm: university hearings finally end. I walk briskly to the loft and hide $1000 under the mattress. I drive recklessly. Sarah K and Susanne D are waiting. Goal: finish getting everything ready for tomorrow’s movers.

5pm: one or the other are endlessly picking up bundles of cardboard boxes at U-Haul as I discover closet after closet of , well, stuff. I probably owe them $1000 for cardboard boxes and tape alone.

6pm: I know now that my booked storage unit is not nearly large enough for all these boxes. Me trying to find another, larger yet not more expensive spot is bloggable in its own right. Sarah and Susanne are not raising eyebrows as choice words come pouring out in frustration.

7pm: I open a beer and drink it straight down on an empty stomach.

8pm: I contemplate finishing off all the vodka in the house. There is a lot of vodka in the house. Sarah and Susanne are calm and steady. I am 100% spinning random thoughts, words, curses. I alternate between throwing things against the wall and sitting down and staring into space. They keep making up boxes, taping, filling, labeling – without a pause, without complaint. I pull out two old books that I want to take back to the loft with me tonight. I am drawn to them, I cannot let them go.

9pm: we pause for a minute.
Nina, have you ever done a garage sale before?
No, well, yes, like when the block was doing one and I had two items to unload.

Why is it that I’m not surprised…Do you have lots of change for tomorrow?
No, but I have lots and lots of twenties.

I’ll bring change for you.
Bring $1000 worth of change.

How is it that you are going to be here for the sale given that the movers are taking your stuff to the loft/storage?
I don’t know…

Can I tell you something?

Must you?

Please do not be surprised if no one comes tomorrow. People do not go to garage sales on a Friday afternoon.
I had no choice, I had no choice…

Just hope that some enterprising thief will break in tonight and cart your loot away.

10pm: Still packing. No time to bag garbage. Discards are thrown in one huge mountain that is reaching the ceiling.

11pm: I check my email. Message from my old law school friend:
When [we] were in Madison last month, you should have told us that if we were real friends, we would have come back for moving week.
Knowing that is in itself a treasure. I know I have been one pathetic specimen this past week. Indeed, I have never ever so shamelessly relied on the strength of others before. To all of you – your offers and your notes totally disarm me. To Sarah and Susanne, who are coming over tomorrow morning and staying for the day to keep me steady: What oh what can I do to show my gratitude?

Midnight: finally, Ocean time.