Relearning and Redoing

Remember a while back, there were a series of ads that suggested a person could relearn how to perform certain activities without cigarettes that are associated with cigarettes, like driving and drinking coffee. Though these ads seemed to associate smoking with intelligence (that is, when you stop smoking, you forget how to do common every day things like driving or drinking a beverage; in fact, the effects of quitting are so crippling to one's mental capacity, that said quitter needs to relearn, like someone waking from a coma, how to do easy things), the point is worth examining: activities associated with other activities seem off when done solo.

Today was my sister's garage sale. I was not looking forward to it for a few reasons: 1) all forecasts suggested dangerous heat in and around the city. Some weather people suggested that it might get as high as 100, with humidity making it feeler even more uncomfortable than a temperature nearly high enough to slowly cook beans. In the end, it got to 72. As one of my friends said on Facebook, "I wish I had that margin of error at my job."

2) Garage sales are not really populated by awesome people. There are two agendas at odds here: I want to sell my crap; they want a good deal on things that are between gently and heavily used. For my sister, she fits into a nice little niche: little kids clothing. Anyone who has had kids knows the inherent problem with clothes other paraphernalia, like high chairs, bouncers, car seats, etc.: children grow out of things quickly so that shirts, pants, jackets, seat, and so forth are only good for a short period of time - a time much shorter than the life of the product. That is, a high chair is perfectly usable for many years after your kid can no longer sit in it. After a while, there is a pile of perfectly good clothing and kids gear that sits washed and folded in a bucket in the garage. Enter the garage sale. It gives my sister a chance to unload some of her goods while it gives new parents a chance to buy clothes and gear at discount prices.

Unfortunately, the value I put on goods is generally higher than the value the buyer places on the same goods. Thus, the negotiation. I hate haggling over prices, but I also hate taking home a TV that is taking up space in my Mom's basement. That said, I also like getting money for stuff I have lying around not making money. So I have to quickly balance the price I place on an item with the price offered and the potential price I could get. Generally, I tend to push the multiple item discount. Buy two things, and I'll cut the price on the two. This way we both win: I get money for my goods and said goods leave the sale; the buyer feels like he or she has gotten a deal. Win/win.

3) The third reason brings me back to the beginning of this entry: last year, Erika and I contributed some of her old belongings to help earn some walking around money for the summer. He manned the sale together, and it was a good time. I enjoyed myself. It felt weird manning this years garage sale, which like last year was overcast and sparsely attended, by myself.

Let me take a minute to describe a recent dream I had:

While waiting for an elevator in a large balcony decorated in a shiny, contemporary glass and chrome way, I struggled to arrange a large number of shopping bags. These bags were like those fancy bags you get at boutiques: odd shaped and strange colored with ribbons and braided strings for handles. I was really worried that when the elevator got there, I wouldn't be able to get on, and hoped that when it arrived it was empty. It arrived, and true to my concerns, I couldn't get all my bags onto the elevator easily. The doors opened and there was a really attractive woman on her way down. I wanted to get onto that elevator with the woman, but I was also worried about my bags. There was no way to take the elevator and get all my bags on at the same time. The woman, who had a British accent and looked not unlike Emily Blunt, keep urging me to leave the bags behind and get on the elevator.

That was when I woke up.

It's weird being in Chicago, or rather Bolingbrook, and doing things I did last year, but this time without a fiancee. I keep looking around and saying to myself, "Last year, Erika and I did this," or "I remember when Erika and I did this." And so on. Sometimes, it's not too big a problem; sometimes, it really sucks to be reminded of the really good times I remember from last summer. I haven't been able to bring myself to go into the city, though I'd really like visit some of my favorite comic stores.

But, in light of my dream, I realize I have to move on. If I want to get on elevator with the beautiful, accented woman I need to drop my baggage and just get on with my life. After all, there are only so many elevators, and not all of them will come with beautiful women.