Lora and I have almost completed dispossessing ourselves. The house itself sold very quickly, in two days, which has something to do with the market, more to do with Lora's prep. The market has been good, and there were no other houses available in our price range, and those available, we know would look shabby by comparison. Much of the house was freshly painted, the carpet replaced in the three bedrooms, and the two bathrooms "modernized." The old rust etched sinks and oak vanities were replaced with something on the low end of cost, but more stylish, and new. Lora is right. Few others would have gone to the trouble, and our realtor showed us pics on his phone of other places on the market with trash -- literally trash -- piled in corners, so it isn't surprising that ours sold quickly. We have always left places better than we found them, but we have always left them, and this likely is the very last house we will ever buy.
Though the house is pretty much empty, dispossessing ourselves of the accumulated stuff has been a bit more difficult. Most of the big items we have sold through Craigslist. We had some trepidation about it, knowing the number of scams that prevail on Craigslist, but I have to say we've sold several relatively costly items -- most of my tools, the band saw, table saw, drill press, and some fishing gear, the pontoon float -- and all without incident. Almost everyone got a "deal," and walked away happy, and so all is good.
Lora arranged for the sale of the larger, can't-give-it-away furniture items, and with one exception, people got a deal, and walked away happy. The living room furniture she sold to a young couple, under educated, between the two of them working three jobs to raise three kids. They picked it up with a promise to pay, and to be completely honest, I didn't think they would. The $225 she asked for the furniture was only about one tenth the cost of comparable "new," but still a sacrifice for the couple and it wouldn't have surprised me if they'd push it off until we just quit asking.
Another piece of furniture she sold to an older couple of our acquaintance on the same promise to pay -- a cabinet I'd made for Lora with multiple small drawers that held her crafting supplies -- and as yet, they haven't paid. We ran into them at the Boise Stage Stop for breakfast one day. They too were on their way to the city for one reason or another (if I remember correctly, the advancing pill popping hypochondria of age) and they were showing us their new phones, both of them pricey. The $70 Lora asked for the cabinet wouldn't cover the cost of materials to re-build it, much less the finicky labor involved in fitting about 30 drawers, and given their $400 phones wouldn't be much of a sacrifice, but they still haven't paid and it's unlikely that they will.
Much of the smaller stuff we've sold at flea markets, garage sales, and finally a raffle. The raffle was one of those great ideas, in theory, that didn't quite work out as planned in reality. Lora thought it would be a good way to throw a farewell party and get rid of the remaining "stuff." She invited her friends (to include the older couple mentioned above) and her ex-coworkers. The premise was this: she would provide the food and drink, and everyone would buy raffle tickets for quarters -- literally quarters to be used in the coin-op laundries at the camp sites of our future adventure. The occasional drawing for the remainder of our stuff was imagined as just a fun activity, not the center piece of the evening. I should probably explain, however, that our stuff still included antique furniture, wicker outdoor furniture, art work, along with the miscellaneous "goods" that would normally accompany a garage sale. The real "junk" had long since been sold at the flea markets.
I'm not sure what exactly went wrong, but something did. Lora imagined that they'd come with a few quarters, and that we'd spend the bulk of the evening eating, drinking and just visiting. It quickly became all about the quarters, which seemed to create an odd aura of entitlement. It was as if we were obligated to sell stuff for a quarter. One asked if the washer and dryer were included in the auction, and Lora had to explain that, no, they were part of the house sale. Another asked if the TV was part of the auction, and Lora again had to explain that, no, she would sell it for $150, but otherwise it was going into storage. Yet another argued with Lora about our "fireplace" -- the TV stand that had a faux fireplace built into it -- insisting that she had promised to give it to her. It too was included in the sale of the house.
After the first ticket was called, they became like sharks in a pod of seals, intent on consuming everything. Someone complained, not far into it, that they'd be there all night. Lora's ostensible friend (the female half of the older couple who welched on the cabinet) point out that "the dumb blonde" was running the show, so what to expect. That, of course, hurt Lora's feelings, and angered her at the moment. The next day, after she had time to reflect, she wondered what it was about her that invited such treatment. I could speculate, and go off on a tangent about most people being disappointed in their amour propre, and they must find someone, anyone, to blame for their disappointment. People like Lora provide a convenient target, not because there is something "wrong" with her, but because she is "giving," in almost every sense of the word. So she tends to attract people who are "takers," who smell the opportunity, like blood in the water, to take advantage.
Regardless, instead of the evening she envisioned, it became a feeding frenzy. Adding to the frenzy, were the children. It seems that most of her co-workers brought a brood, most under school age, and because their parents were so intent on the progressing raffle, they went completely unsupervised. They picked their noses, fingered the food, spilled soft drinks all over the house, and trampled the emerging stone crop in the back yard. For our "guests," it became about getting stuff. For us, it quickly became about getting rid of stuff and our guests. As a pure cynical calculation, it served its purpose. We got rid of everything in the house that wasn't otherwise promised, and we are now almost completely free of the stuff that weighs us down. We took in (I counted) $89.50 in quarters, and spent about $150 on the food and drinks. From my perspective, we paid the difference to have our stuff hauled away. Good riddance to both the stuff, and those who hauled it away.
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