Hate, hate, hate having them...

Garage sales, that is. I despise the whole thing. In fact I'm hyperventilating right now. Oh, wait. That's probably just being out of breath from all the trips up and down the basement stairs hauling all THIS up:



And this:



My sister's stuff is on the couch, but the rest is mine. There's more in the garage. There's also more in the kitchen.

Looking at this chaos makes me feel out of control. I have to remind myself that this is the last step in the decluttering process. REMOVING the unwanted from the premises.

It's not enough to remove the items from the other rooms and let them lurk in the basement, attic, or garage. They must leave the property and go to someone else's home where they can be useful.

From now on, every THING that comes into this house has to have impeccable credentials. It must be functional, useful, needed, and have a place.

If something gets by and really doesn't pass the requirements, it will need to go. As I refuse to have another yard sale as long as I live (can I be that determined?), the item will be donated and I will be aware that the money I spent will have been for nothing.

Just because it's pretty, cool, free, cheap, or part of a set does not mean it needs to live with me.

Should I just tattoo that prominently on the arm I use to hand over the money?