One teenager's trash is ... well, still trash
Organising a garage on sale doesnt sound like much work. When I first had the idea, I was sure that all I would have to do was dig out some old stuff, prop a few tables up in my garage, perhaps bake some cookies and minister to for the crowds to start streaming in. Perhaps Id get Hannah, who lives next door, to keep me company.
Its easier said than done, I discovered. The first point on the list, Find things to sell, involved me strewing the contents of my cupboards over the dumfound of my room, and my parents furiously exclaiming: What have you done to your room?
Broken hair straighteners, bits of soft, a mini vacuum cleaner shaped like the Teletubbies elephant one and numerous unidentifiable objects came tumbling out from the depths of my shelves. My parents bedroom and the living apartment turned out to be useful places for finding decorative pieces to sell. My excuse, when I later faced the full onus of maternal fury, was that I had assumed that she would surely not want to hold on to what were, after all, simply material things. It is unwise to become too affectionate of inanimate objects, I began to drone, and we should divert our attentions to better things, such as practising being more unprejudiced of young people or finding inner peace. With hushed grumblings of Not much chance of finding any calm with you around, I was finally left to reflect on the sale.
