Originally published by The Clifton Courier July 17, 2019

I’ve decided that I need to have a garage sale.

I’m getting ready to go on a cheeky international jaunt with my sister. But before I take off and sully the good name of my country, I also have to move out of my current place.

My lease runs out while I’m away so I’m shifting to a different side of Brisbane where I will have access to more of my mates, almost exclusive use of a bathtub, and may just get away with starting a compost heap in the backyard. I’m really looking forward to it.

This means I won’t have to pay rent while I’m away or lease out my room to some stranger who might not put things back in the exact spot they belong. It’s a real scheduling win.

But this means my final days before I fly out will involve a lot of packing of gear I was supposed to get rid of earlier this year, but was too busy being fabulous/watching Gavin and Stacey to do so.

Now it about weeks out and I have to act.

I’ve managed to sort my large inventory of stuff into two categories: Things I Absolutely Should Not Keep and Things I Probs Don’t Need to Keep. The former needs to go.

I know I have the owner’s bias, but I feel like there’s a bit of a value to these unwanted possessions I’ve collected over the years. I mean, there’s at least $48.60 worth of gear I’m just sittin’ on.

It’s not junk; everything still works. The glasses still hold liquid. The plates are still viable surfaces from which to eat food. And the vast collection of old jeans I’ve cut into high-waisted shorts still make you look just yeah-I’m-dressing-for-myself-not-you-mate enough to allow you to enjoy a filthy $3 basics session with your friends without being bothered.

Surely someone out there wants to pay good money for the weird stuff I’ve amassed.

I don’t really want a bunch of strangers nosing around, judging my life’s possessions and it would be pretty inconvenient for my current housemates to give up the driveway for the morning, but I think a garage sale is the best way to go. People can just rock up, check out the stuff on face value and, hopefully, offer my more than my asking price for the sweet, sweet loot.

I mean, there’s the laziness aspect of not listing items individually but I think that, if I opted for a sale method requiring me to write descriptions for my “stock” I’d be too honest. And while honesty is the best policy, my strand of it is a terrible, terrible marketing strategy. I know this because I tried to sell an armchair when I was in Armidale and got zero takers. Here’s a snippet the ad:

“Like leather but nowhere near as luxurious, this armchair covering makes you question your morals. Not because you’re picturing a calf having its skin peeled, but because you know you nestling in the sweat stains of strangers shouldn’t feel so good.”

See? I’m just not good at sales – I find it very hard to lie and I have a tendency to highlight the negatives even when I’m trying to be positive.

Here’s a sample of the descriptions I’d write for my gear:

Mirror with golden plastic unicorn detailing: This item is completely unnecessary and barely functional, as the unicorn detailing covers much of the mirror. Would recommend for decorative purposes only. Best suited to someone extremely extra with a limited budget and no aversion to tackiness.

Mint green plates with scratch marks: Look, these aren’t special, but they’ll do the job. You’re only eating food off them, aren’t ya? You’re not putting them in a display hutch or anything. Whatta you care what they look like?!

A bunch of tiny bottles: These would have been great for parties like a year ago when mini bottles and paper straws were in, but they’re not all that trendy anymore. Also, I picked them up from the tip shop after they were clearly dumped by a bottle supplier and they didn’t come with lids, so you can’t even seal them. You could probably use them for plants though?

An ex-rental copy of Centre Stage: This movie is extremely cheesy and includes a Jamiroquai song, but I promise you it’s good. My favourite scene is where the ballerinas break in their new shoes.

A marital arts self help book: I don’t understand why I have this and neither will you. I recommend keeping this on your shelf for years before gifting it to your least-favourite cousin in your family secret Santa.