Storage Wars: Faulty Wiring

To my ancestors: The why of cleaning out the garage storage room is of no consequence. Don’t roll over, and pleeeeze do not send any haints to haunt me. Enough of the good stuff is inside, visible, being used and admired. The GWTW heirlooms are safe.

Many boxes. Neatly stacked . Labeled. None contain cash: this must be the fourth time the boxes have been packed or unpacked or repacked.  “Oh, I remember this…where it sat, how it felt…”

None of those characters on TV will be bidding on this unit.

The determination is in four categories: Donate it. Sell it. Keep it. Pitch it.

Round one: Several boxes of household items and clothing went to First Methodist for their Sale. Ancestral heritage is not determined by coffee cups, a pole lamp,a bit of clothing, or an ironing board.

Next round: Auction at Lepanto. This is the tough one. Harsh reality: No one in my family is equipped for nor desirous of pretty things I have boxed and saved for years. Dust-catchers, glass bowls, silverplate pieces, and small furniture belong in someone’s parlor.

Do you have a parlor? I thought not. Now they are wrapped and/or stored away, doing no one any good at all. The bummer: no one wants them or has room to store them. They will never be used by me or my kids. Determination: Sell.

Here’s an easy one:  Generic baby toys, wraps, quilt, sentimental clothing.  I hold out hope for a grandchild or two, during my lifetime, I might add. Child-size table and chairs. Roll-top desk. Small slipper chair. Youth chair. Some of the collection is already inside, as one precious angel is playing with the Fisher-Price Circus Train already. Determination:  Keep.

What’s left after that: Pitch it. Fair warning.

Men don’t understand this gut-wrenching process. 

They are SO NOT wired like us women.