I wanted to post a column about what a great time I had Saturday night with my friends. Only, apparently, when I asked my friends to go out dancing and drinking, they forgot about the DANCING part of the equation. ...Pack o' bums.
Oh, they were perfectly content watching me make like the dancin' fool that I am. Because, frankly, I'll dance to a clock radio, I don't care. But here we had a perfectly good band and they wanted to go to the downstairs bar -- to talk and drink. What are we, middle-aged?!? Don't anybody answer that.
I can have a chat anytime. But opportunities to groove to live music, other than Ryan's constant cacophony, are few and far between. Only Melissa had the nerve to join me for a song and a half. So only SHE is not a total bum. And Barbara's not a bum because she has long told me she doesn't dance -- unless she's rip roaring wasted and, as far as I can tell, those days are behind her. But the rest of ya's....Sharon, Annie, Jay, Nancy -- bums! (I'm leaving out Tom and Matt because Tom's new-ish to the group so he gets a pass, and Matt showed some liveliness in playing air bass. Next time, Matt, we fully expect you to be air-jamming and jumping from table tops).
Actually, I had to be clean and sober the next day because I'm preparing for something I've been wanting to take on for years. Something that involves a lot of discipline and hard choices. A lot of time is sacrificed. And the rewards are meager. I'm talking about...a garage sale.
That's right. Hold your applause. Just greet me with awe and admiration. I'm finally tackling the Holy Grail -- my attic and garage together. Oh, the impressiveness of this undertaking is staggering, I know.
See, I brought this on myself. I'm a keeper. I'm a sentimentalist. I pick up a Mega Bloks Lego and and am transported back to when Ryan was at the crawling stage, and I think, "Aww, that was so cute. I can't give this away." So now -- YEARS LATER -- I have 5-HUNDRED Mega Bloks. I've held onto cribs, strollers, playmats and play yards. Why? I don't know. We're certainly NOT having more kids. I have bikes, bubble cars, pink roller blades. There's also a door (you read correctly, a door) a clock from the '70s, which I don't even want to get into.
Maybe there's some laziness mixed in with the sentimentalism. I needed to just get sick of looking at it, and get struck with a severe need for more space, before I could unload it.
But to really push myself to have this garage sale, which I've been talking about since last year, I needed to sign up for the Rutherford Town Wide garage sale. I needed to pay the $10 (they'll put our address in a booklet for people to find our house) to stop my procrastination and just get it done.
Mike, meanwhile, regurgitated his "We just need a Dumpster!" mantra. I'm like, "Mike, we can sell things to people who really want them. And we'll make a few bucks on it. The kids can keep the money from whatever they sell." Mike: "Right, we'll just be rolling in it when this is over. GET A DUMPSTER!" I reminded him that his father is a garage sale junkie. Mike: "My father buys old watches and clocks. Not umbrella strollers and booster seats. GET A DUMPSTER!"
Well, this "topic of conversation" will be over soon. Because this Saturday is day the Salfino household will have a whole new look. We will be clutter-free. We will be completely organized. WE WILL BE READY FOR OUR CLOSE-UP! Then, then I'll be doing the happy dance! ...Just don't mention Christmas to me. ...DON'T!
--Catherine Schetting Salfino
