Goodwill gratitude

I come from a long line of hoarders. My father and grandfather didn't just "save" items in their homes, they branched out to storage sheds and whole barns full of treasures they just couldn't part with. My grandfather died a few years ago and my father carries on the family tradition, spending his hard-earned money on storage space rent; buildings full of unique, fantastic, yet questionable, items.

So, it is quite surprising that I am a flinger. I fling it all as I cannot stand the clutter. When my surroundings are cluttered, I can't sleep. There is little more cathartic to me than to go through the house and fling, fling, fling.

We had a neighborhood garage sale in June that wasn't advertised well, so we were left with much junk. Dear husband loves the act of bartering, so garage sales are a treat to him. He loves to show off his sales techniques (and let me assure you, we are all told that his are techniques that we are to watch, admire, and aspire to.) He enjoys brushing off his bi-lingual skills and selling to customers no one else can even converse with. He also likes to take off price tags and say, when asked, that the price of the item is the first price that comes into his mind. Never mind that the price he quotes is often more than we spent on the item when it was new, the guy loves to make a buck. I, on the other hand, when offered $1 on a marked $10 item, will cheerfully say, "Take it!" as I want it gone.

Because dear husband wanted another shot at garage sale success, we have had a garage full of, um, rubbish for four months; much longer than I could stand. In fact our three-car garage was barely a one-car garage with all the junk spilling over. I was at my wit's end, but I had a plan.

Today would be my day to fling, my opportunity to purge.

Jimmy left town yesterday afternoon, so last night the kids and I spent three hours packing up and loading the suburban. This morning Landon and I continued the packing until the only spots left open were his seat and mine; we were loaded to the top.

We arrived at our local Goodwill just as they were opening the doors. I had to resist the urge to hug the employees as they helped my take load after load into the building. With every trip inside to deposit more boxes, bags, and sacks, I could feel the weight lifting from my chest.

In fact, it was so rejuvenating to me, that Landon and I went home and kept working until we had a whole 'nother load to take back. The Goodwill lady was just as sweet when we returned and my suburban was quickly unloaded again.

As I was leaving the second time, the lady said, "Hey, hon, you need another receipt?"

"Ma'am," I readily admitted, "I should be paying you to take all this stuff. You have made my day."

She was a little taken aback by my comment, but assured me that they were open seven days a week as she could tell that this wasn't the end of my visits.

If I didn't have to put Landon down for a nap, I'd be high-tailin' it back over there. Well, at least now I will have time to hit the girls' rooms...YEAH!!!