A Wheely Good Game

In the coming weeks, I'm going to have to sell/store/discard/donate a number of my possessions.

I'm feeling surprisingly unsentimental about this.

Insert meme here.

I own a lot of stuff. Stuff I've purchased, stuff I've collected, stuff I've inherited, stuff that somehow found its way into my possession and simply is mine.

I'm not a hoarder, by any means. But I'm definitely attached to a lot of my stuff.

This is not my stuff. But representative of the concept of stuff.

Still, given what's at stake, it's time to prioritize my love of stuff against my desire to be free of the life that gave me that stuff. Moving on, I simply won't have room for gross tonnage of possessions, nor will I want to be tethered to them. The next phase of my life is not about things, but about...

...uh...

...hell if I I know. But not about things, OK?

I'm not saying I'm ready to ascend to a higher plane
or anything, just that I need less freaking stuff.

So I'll be going through my possessions soon, deciding what stays, what goes, what might make me a few bucks if I put it on eBay or hold a garage sale.

OMG, I hate the idea of holding a garage sale and dealing with penny-pinching old people and Pluggers who see a $100 item marked down to $10 and still want to haggle it down to $5.

Take it. Just stop negotiating with me, FFS.

My soon-to-be-ex said he would preside over a garage sale, and he's welcome to do so. The idea gives me the heebie-jeebies. I'd rather call Goodwill and tell them to bring over a dump truck than go through that again.

On the other hand, I own a few interesting items that I'd like to sell rather than give away if I can.

Just because I want to know that someone else sees their value, you know?

Like my proto-Heelys.

Remember a few years ago, when Heelys - sneakers with retractable wheels that turned them into ad hoc roller skates - were all the rage?

As seen at malls everywhere.

By the way, Heelys the company was founded in my very own North Texas suburb in 2000. And for a while in the first decade of the century, it was hard to venture into a public space - mall, park, sidewalk - without seeing some daredevil 10-year-old bobbing and weaving through the crowds on his/her Heelys.

I thought they were way cool, myself.

But you know the saying "There's nothing new under the sun." Or, as it's more recently rendered, "If you think any new idea is truly new, you're a sad douchebag." Everything old is new again, people.

When the Heelys craze was at its hottest in the mid-naughts, I bought these on eBay.

They look like a pair of sandals, don't they?

Platform sandals, though. Hallmark of the 1970s.

But wait, what's that there?

A button set into the platform sole? Why?

Turns out these innocuous 1970s-vintage sandals harbor a secret.

Whaaaa?

That's right, my bitches. Wheels.

Heelys circa 1978. WHOA.

I love these damn things.

They see me rollin'. 

These aren't Heelys, guys. They predate Heelys by, like, 30 years. Yet here they are: sandals on wheels. SPOOKY.

They totally work, by the way. I've tried them. They're about a size 8. And in great shape.

D'you think I could get 10 bucks for them?

I'd be willing to try.

What do you think?

More of my stuff to be displayed here in the next few weeks. If you want any of it, let me know. That email address is cbaudelaire@always-drunk.com. Otherwise it goes to Goodwill or my big green trash can.

The point is, I need to get rid of stuff. Repurposing beats the landfill, but my motives ultimately are selfish.

Stell/store/discard/donate?

What do you think?