I am not interested in getting into the “flipping game,” of buying new things for cheap then selling for a profit, so if that’s what you’re interested in reading about, skip today’s and tomorrow’s essays. I want to live comfortably with my favorite things and get rid of everything else; preferably without too much loss. I’ve been hesitant to donate things now that my living space is livable, but now isn’t the time to stop.
I have a big box, half-full, ready to donate.
I think I forgot to put one thing – a hat – in it this morning before I brought it out to my car, but I was in a hurry and didn’t bring it to the car outside of quiet hours, so I had to be quiet and quick to avoid making too much noise. Going forward, I think I’ll leave stuff in the trunk overnight if I work an early shift then donate stuff after work.
Here’s the utilitarian answer about “when” to donate:
Load up the car when it’s not raining and donate whenever you can spare the time to possibly wait in line and the energy to maybe help unload. When I worked at the thrift store and covered the donation door, it didn’t matter if it was raining, just so long as it wasn’t obviously garbage they were donating; they’d take it and either sell or scrap it later.
Otherwise, I’m donating stuff I can’t sell for high dollar.
If I opened up an online store and used my spare bedroom as a warehouse inventory room, then I’d have no reason to donate anything except the big objects that never sold. Since my goal is not that, but rather clearing out that spare bedroom almost completely, maybe turning it briefly into a workshop or second entertainment space, I see no point in hanging onto things that won’t be worth the time investment in trying to sell, unless that effort margin is outstandingly in my favor.
I’d rather write, edit, publish, or live my life.
The last time I dropped off some stuff, I received a coupon for a free book. That coupon is expiring soon and these donatables have sat around long enough. I’m not looking forward to walking through those thrifting aisles, with that chemical clean smell they spray sparingly each day, to find my free book, but to not do so would be a shame, if only because that loss leader could actually be my first donation profit. The tax write-off receipts didn’t pan out. I don’t want the percentage off coupons to encourage me to buy.
However, a no-strings free book?
That’s worth at least a cursory glance. If anything, recent romps through old spending stomping grounds without buying anything have shown me I do have the discipline not to waste money. We’ll see how I do later on. Until then, it’s time to check my donation box one last time before bringing it over after work…
I forgot the hat.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: Selling and donating are tricky for me. Through these two essays, I want to explore my hang-ups so I can proceed with clearing out the gunk out of my space. Why do I hold onto donation boxes? Why do I hold onto selling boxes? Probably out of discomfort for that whole process. It’s easier to buy things, especially with self check-out, because your only judge is your silent wallet.|
|Related: Other Selling Zeal essays.|
|Photos: That little piece of furniture looks like it’s bemoaning its fate, but that’s just a pareidolia illusion of our minds.|
|Written On: July 13th [23 minutes, mobile]|
|Last Edited: July 13th [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|