Side Effects

There are all kinds of side effects. Like when you're having an allergy attack and you take an allergy pill. Then you sleep for the next four hours when you really needed to get stuff done. Or, you get overzealous and clean the house from top to bottom, corner to corner, then you feel that twinge in your lower back that says "Ok, now you've done it!" Or, you're using your spade in the garden with every intention of improving it, but instead you spade right through a sprinkler pipe and you spend the rest of the afternoon repairing it. Or, how about when you've done a simple kindness for a complete stranger and later find $20 in an old coat pocket. Or, you ruffle the scruff of a neighbor's dog, turn to talk to the neighbor and then get an unexpected wet kiss across your face, nearly knocking you to the ground. Or, you've caved in and bought that ice cream or cookies or pie or cake, then feel guilty for having indulged (that was me last night). 

I am suffering the side effects of two things right now, besides the Oreos I ate last night. One has to do with our decision to RV full time. We have been home for over a month and we've sold exactly one thing: the daybed, trundle and it's accoutrements. We have a houseful of stuff to sell. The side effect? It is overwhelming! It is so overwhelming that I want to crawl in a hole and hide myself. What to keep? What to sell?

Things we were hoping to keep, we will need to sell, like the beautiful mahogany pieces that came from Rob's great-grandmother's house in St. Thomas. I'm afraid the things we need to sell may not fetch a reasonable price. I'm planning on having a huge garage/estate sale next weekend, but the effort and energy it entails is staggering. I've read the many tips on having a successful garage sale, but I am not going to rent tables at a party store, nor am I going to pay the exorbitant fees by advertising in the newspaper. I will advertise the garage sale on craigslist.com, though. Craigslist is how I sold the daybed. Great. But much of what I want to sell people would expect to be shipped. No way. Shipping, in my experience, would eat up too much of the profits. I'm sure I don't qualify for special, discount rates with FedEx or UPS. 

Most of the stuff I want to sell is not junk, but a garage sale is a place where people expect to pay next to nothing for everything. Some of the stuff isn't suitable for consignment stores, but some of it is. Should I put the set of china there? Its beautiful, but old fashioned. How long, on average, would I have to wait for it to sell? Does it matter? Maybe I should just get the garage cleared out enough that we can put everything out there and have experts in estate sales come in and offer us a flat amount for the lot of it. That would make them more money than it would us, but I wouldn't have the feat of figuring it all out, which is making my head hurt. That's how we handled my mother-in-law's estate—well, the stuff in her house that the family didn't keep. I so dislike having to think about it. I dislike more having to do it. I have to keep my eye on the ball, put one foot in front of the other, not let the challenge paralyze me.

That brings me to the other side effect. I'd rather be thinking about and doing something else than dealing with all the stuff, stuff and more stuff that we've collected over the years. I read an article that had huge side effects for me. It inspired me so much that I can't stop thinking about it. It has mushroomed in my head like an atomic bomb. I have a fully formed book in my head. I have to write it. It will be hard. I will spend hours thinking about how to express my thoughts, create a scene, doing research. I will feel unimaginative and wholly inadequate from time to time, but I have to write it. Once we are on the road, Rob will have to deal with me hunkering over my computer for hours or days at a time, doing more than just processing my photographs. A big side effect will be having to balance all the hours in the day. I certainly wouldn't want to miss the sites at each place we visit. 

Now that I've said it, made it public so to speak, I must complete the tasks. I must sell our stuff and stop being a wuss about it. Just let it go so we can get on the road where we never think about all the stuff over which I'm agonizing now. And I must write my book, which I know would make a good, if not great, movie because that's how it plays in my head. 

Like the Nike ads always said: Just Do It. Besides, I don't want to contemplate what would happen if I don't. You know, all the other side effects.