Today my Sister Karen and I went to an estate sale. The house was a typical 1960’s bi-level with bad landscaping and a broken porch lamp. I would call this an “inside garage sale” not an estate sale. “Estate sale” conjurs up images of beautiful antiques, tasteful painings, lovely china and vintage jewelry. This was a sad little house. It was obvious that the Lady that lived there had passed away and her family was trying to empty the place. I don’t think I could do what they were doing. Strange people walking around in the house, touching everything. Turning up their noses at the prices, snickering at the black velvet picture, looking through her books and tossing them aside. How do you decide what your Mother’s outdated clothes are worth? What about all her cyrstal pieces? What about that horrendous piece of Capodimonte that was probably the most valuable thing in the whole house? The kitchen cupboards were all open and people were rummaging through everything. Her beautiful collection of Bradford plates laid out on a bed. A fur stole hanging on a door. All her little evening purses, all her little embroidered hankies….her whole personality was put out on display. I don’t think I could do it. I felt so sorry for that little house and everything in it. That poor little house was so sad.
I bought 3 Beanie Babies for my dog. She won’t play with them…they don’t squeek. Diva.