Randomly stumbling across garage sales was fun, but now they’re just footnotes in my self-exploration journey that helped me arrive at the person I am today. I was recently offered the opportunity to co-host a garage sale to sell off a bunch of my stuff, but I declined because I wanted to use that time to do other things instead. Potentially making a few dollars for laborious work might appeal to some, but not me.
I earned enough money this week.
I submitted my 40-hour timecard yesterday. It was a strenuous venture, significantly more mentally challenging than I thought it would be, but other than some amateur mistakes stemming from a lack of clarity in my writing, it was a good week that I’ve been able to thoroughly decompress from. If I had been in the midst of another day selling my personality, except here with an unreliable stream of income, I probably would have been more worn out than I am now.
Money is a fungible, undulating resource.
In our chases after riches and displays of weather, we forget the value of spending time with ourselves. This morning, rather than the utilitarian rush to clean, shave, and dress, I spent more time throughout the process. A longer bath, since it wasn’t during quiet hours, a closer shave, and a concert shirt. Later, I had a nice walk around somewhere I hadn’t been in years, before splurging on some groceries I’ll eventually need to replace, skipping over anything unnecessary.
I did idly browse my old collecting haunts.
Tomorrow would have been the big garage sale day, but instead, I’ll be catching up some editing and preparing for the week ahead. I didn’t apply much time to downsizing or selling mainly because four major woes happened all in close proximity, so my mind was wrought with stress. I’ve addressed all four now, so my mind is back to being free and clear. Similarly to dieting, if I can establish a good set of guidelines over what to do each evening to downsize, I’ll do it.
Otherwise, I’ll be negligent.
It’s easier not doing anything. The path of least resistance in dieting, life, and here with deciding how many of my possessions I want to lug around with me to my next apartment next year means removing difficult decisions that could lead to remission into eating poorly, living terribly, or buying more stuff or keeping too much junk. Instead, if I can pre-plan what I can do with a few minutes of time each day throughout the week, I’ll be more likely to accomplish those goals.
That means time spent selling my things less randomly.
Instead of having someone stop by a sales area hoping they’ll buy something, it means researching what could sell and donating the rest. After all, even writing about selling junk is wasting time, since I’d rather write and sell fiction.
It’s too bad I had to waste time buying and selling other junk to realize that first.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: I wrote this too late in the day. I feel like the quality of this essay suffered greatly, but I couldn’t write throughout the day or in the morning. If I would have changed anything, it would have been to write this earlier, maybe on my phone, but today was also fairly busy.|
|Related: Other Downsizing Zeal essays.|
|Photo: There was a sale in one of the apartments in the complex. I thought of taking a photo of the sign after I settled into the apartment-mansion for the day yesterday, but that motivation was outweighed by my pressing concerns of relaxing and getting caught up on tasks including downsizing, writing, and editing.|
|Written On: June 22nd [45 minutes; Wordpres]|
|Last Edited: June 22nd [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|