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Carol Perkins: Yard Sales It started small, but has grown to what may be the biggest of all indoor Yard Sales. So big, in fact, that it's a temporary store, which will be open weekends until Labor Day! The last Carol Perkins column: Carol Perkins: A Golfing Tale By Carol Perkins Whose bright idea was it to have a yard sale? Was it mine? I vowed NEVER to have another yard sale as long as I lived. Why? Becausegetting ready for it is just too much work. Hours of dragging outclothes from storage boxes, backs of closets, plastic tubs, and leafbags tucked away in the attic or basement is back-breaking, butpricing is no picnic either. With four people involved, every itemrequires a sticker or a tag. Originally Becky Bell, Judy Wallace Irvin, and I were going have thisin the parking lot in front of Main Street Screenprinting. Judy had atent, Becky had a wagon bed, and I had racks on loan. However, wenixed that idea when the temperature hit 100, followed by the rain."Who wants to stand outside with the stuff, more importantly, whowould come?" My mother suggested, hearing me talk of the sale, that we put ourthings in her shop (where I used to have Fantastic Finds). "It'sair-conditioned and you can work on it as you want to and not have todrag your things in and out every night." Wonderful idea! Another plus was the fact that all the clothing racks around thewalls were still there, so we had a place to hang things and shelvesfor shoes and household things Carla, my daughter who lives in Brentwood, met me in Bowling Greenwith her first load, which consisted mostly of clothes from hersix-year-old son's closet. "Carla, many of these still have the tags!"I said as I examined her over indulgence of her baby boy (not such ababy now). Once home, I began my process. Like a mad woman, I removed theclothes I could no longer wear, and laid them on the guest bed,knowing no guest was coming. The stack grew so tall, the jackets andsweater slid off the bed, tangling the hangers together. By the timeI unloaded four closets, I had enough for a store of my own. I havekept sizes from 14 on up...way on up. Now that I can't wear the "onups," I am parting with them, even though I feel a strong attachmentto some. Carla came to the play last weekend so she had the opportunity toexamine my collection as I moved items from the bed to the den forpricing. She went through my things, "Mama, some of these still havethe tags!" Touche. After the closets, Guy carried bags and bags from the basement. LikeChristmas, I found pants that I had put away from last summer and thesummer before and had never brought them out. I forgot I had them,mainly because I tend to wear the same things over and over. "This isridiculous!" I confessed to Guy whose trips up and down the stairswere wearing on him. "I want you to promise that when this sale isover you'll call Bowling Park and have Chris bring a truck and takethis stuff away. NOTHING needs to come back here!" I promised. I took three garage bags of shoes to the store! Why didn't I wearthese shoes? Mainly because they hurt my feet. I am a tennisshoe/Clark sandal purse, even though some find those shoes to be forold women...well! Purses, how many purses can a woman carry? We girlsknow that if a person doesn't "feel" right, we won't carry it, sothese obviously never felt right. How many things of Guy's do I have? NOT ONE ITEM. "I wear mineout!" That simply isn't true; he just can't part with them. By the time Carla and I finished taking loads to the store, the rackswere sagging. Suddenly, we were looking at a place that was more likea real store than a yard sale. Because we all have so much, we decidedto keep it open Thursday, Friday, and Saturday until after Labor Day. For the next few weeks, I hope to remove every item from this housethat I haven't worn in a year or every print that hasn't been on awall, every plate that hasn't been on a table, or every piece ofjewelry that hasn't been on my arm or around my neck. Shame on me forkeeping all this stuff, but maybe I was just waiting for the biggestyard sale...air-conditioned at that...in my life. AND MY LAST. - Carol Sullivan Perkins This story was posted on 2012-07-29 05:57:18
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