Avoiding Yet Another Garage Sale

 Oh, we're not finished with them yet. But things have been winnowed down. I have two strategies for winnowing and the first one has been a huge success.

As a reminder, we started with the book sale. Pretty big flop, but we finally found somebody who loved to take them away, read all they wanted, and would donate the rest as we were planning to do. So, they saved us a lot of work. The second garage sale was general house clearing, and we sold enough to make it worth our while. But both were a whole lot of work. It was looking like we were stuck with two more sales, one specialized, and later a final estate sale.

The specialized sale was getting rid of the jewelry-making stuff from about 15 years of collecting, planning, falling "in like" with different rocks and beads, and finding myself changing fascinations before using up all the supplies. It started with several weeks of organizing, bits here and bits there. Then it was followed by organizing, say, rock slabs and partially worked ones and finished and/or bought cabochons into piles, as opposed to metals, and as opposed to beads. Bazillions of beads! I pulled out the tools I anticipated needing for the few beads I wished to keep, and a few rocks to pass on just to show grandkids how varied and interesting they can be. Packed! (FYI the glass projects are still in process, so not packed, and no spare pieces identified yet. I've promised the club the extras.)

Next came locating all the bazillion tiny through larger bags that were part of the hobby - either how things came, or how they went to the club store to sell, or whatever. Each little bag contained a unit of some kind of items once those were collected and sorted, say a particular size and color of crystals, or stone slabs or beads, or even occasionally some plastic ones, something fine for kids but verboten for selling in the club store. The last step was combining bitty bags into larger bags to sell as a unit. So a unit might have 4 cabs, or three packs of different beads, or little bottles of various findings. However it worked out, whatever would fit. Every bag, whatever it contained, was priced at a quarter. To induce volume purchasing, 5 bags cost a dollar. Each may well have contents purchased for $20 or even $50!

The plan was to haul everything - with permission - as a vendor into the club, display on the tables, and let members pick what they wanted, hoping for some enthusiasm. Really, really hoping to just get rid of it all. Sure, also make a few bucks on it of course. but just not to have to pack more stuff I would no longer have access to the proper equipment for finishing projects to the standards I'd developed in the club.

I called my best friend down here and a fellow club member. I asked her if she would like first pick. In my house of course, and we could chat while going through everything. Win-win. She bought just over half! Lots of grandchildren to make things for, even grown children including some men who would wear a large pendant on a thong for example. She also claimed things for herself to wear, as there were things matching her own personal exotic tastes. We both were thrilled.

About a week later I got to talking with another club member. She has relatives who love jewelry, and others who hate jewelry but love rocks. I invited her over to look and see if she wanted anything. She came this morning. She wanted everything left! She's a snowbird and has the equipment of her own at her northern location to work on things all year that way. When she was finished, I gave her the total, and she decided me prices were way too cheap. She would give me double. I explained my philosophy, needing to just get rid of the stuff, glad if it made the next person (or people) happy, and they went where they'd see some use. Besides, she saved me hauling it to the club, or worse, hauling it back! She changed her mind at that, and insisted on paying me triple my asking price!

If only all sales were that easy!

I have no real idea what will be the result of my second strategy. I called a local auction house which is knowledgeable about collectables. They'll send somebody out next week to see what I have to offer. It will be a combination of some of the better pieces of furniture (extra expense to move and store), the pieces of my SW pottery - he informed me over the phone that I have "Native American" pottery, the category "SW" pottery was different, just a fad from recent years that has worn out its interest level - plus bunches of the Chinese and early 20th century glass pieces (Fenton, Carnival, Vasoline glass, etc.), items I don't "need" to keep. The person I talked to actually represents two different auction houses, one mostly collectibles, the other furniture and household items. Steve might even throw in his Kachinas, delicate and not guaranteed to arrive north in good shape. Moving those out of the house gives us room to fix up the house and paint what needs it, and finish organize packing once there are empty walls to stack boxes against. 

Then there's only the final garage/moving sale to deal with. Followed by the "FREE" box at the curb.

Then the dumpster.

Unscheduled Equipment Malfunction

 I returned from my morning stint at the club and Steve asked me to take him to Taco Bell. He has been hungry for a taco for three weeks now, and there was always a reason not to go. This time we went.

We sat down with our food and I turned the TV back on. Or at least that was my intention. I had recently put a framed picture in front of the TV stand, adding to the stack of things to head out for our next, hopefully final, garage sale next month. Room is getting progressively more limited in the house and that’s the spot for pictures meant to go away in some direction other than Minnesota. It wasn’t an issue last night or this morning, so I was a bit puzzled by the TV’s refusal to turn on. I first checked my fingers. They battle with two sets of habits from our switching back and forth between Direct and Dish, so occasionally trip over themselves and hit the wrong keys. That wasn’t the problem.

The power was out. Good thing it’s morning and we have plenty of light. Not so good that Steve’s lift chair is in the up position and he can’t sit in it, more like just propping himself up while perching on the seat. Exhausting! But as he pointed out, at least power didn’t die when he was reclined way back and needing to heed a nature call. He relocated to his office chair, conveniently adjacent to the table for eating his tacos.

Did we have wi-fi? I checked my laptop, fully charged, so running on battery. No wi-fi however, so I guess it needs its own power source. How about the phone? I pulled it out of my pocket, pulled up the electric company’s number, and pushed the button. Nada. The nearest cell tower must be down as well.

This is when, despite what I just learned, that I began to indulge in paranoia. Had I, in the recent chaos, forgotten to pay the electric bill? It’s usually one of the first in the month. I had no way to go online to check billing status nor to call the company and check with them. Bugger!

I still had my shoes on, usually by now off for comfort, so grabbed my phone and went wandering. I clearly recall back when I was wearing a cardiac monitor connected to cell service to register “events”, that there were places in the house which did work and others which didn’t. We are between towers and have competing signals. Supposedly it’s a back-up system. Perhaps one tower in the area still works and a short walk around the house will pick it up.

It worked. Nothing in the front yard, so I tried the back. By the time I went through the gate, my phone rang the power company. They have an interesting system that keeps them from having to actually talk with customers. Or at least I presume that’s their goal. We can be grouchy after all.

“You have reached “_____” Power. I see you are calling from “___ ___ ____”. Is your address “_________”?

“Yes”.

“We show a power outage in your area which started at 11:11 AM due to an unscheduled equipment malfunction. It is estimated to be repaired at approximately 2:15 PM.Do you wish a callback when it has been fixed?”
“No.” I figure we’ll be home and well aware when power is restored. We have a battery clock in the living room, things to do in the meantime if our own energy can be restored while we wait on electricity. There are still books, boxes to be packed, naps to take as needed, things to clean in rooms with windows - meaning I can forget the other bathroom -  so why ask for getting somewhere in a lineup delaying the next customer? (FYI Turned out power was restored in less than an hour, or about 20 minutes after my call.)

I hung up on the machine, one unanswered question left with nobody to ask. Do they have any scheduled equipment malfunctions?

It might be interesting to know, after all.

*     *     *     *     *

Addendum: now that I can function online again, after posting this I checked my email. previously blocked by power loss. Sure enough, there was a notice that we had a current power outage in the area, and of course it was time stamped for when we couldn't receive it. Glad my head scratching doesn't produce dandruff flakes.

Termites!

We should have guessed. It's Arizona, after all. 

It's not that I haven't looked for them. I read a few years back that they build little brown tunnels coming up from your foundation to an egress point - or several - into your home. Wood, yum yum. Wet wood, of course, since dry wood is too hard. Go figure.

When we cleared the books out of the library, there were a few clusters of tunnels with accompanying damage in the book page edges which faced the wall. Sometimes they were on the bottoms as well. Nothing to show from the outside, until you happened to pick up a damaged book. Since the books mostly were already read, just saved for... something or another, we rarely actually pulled a book off the shelves. So before the book sale, there were several shocks waiting for us. All the books were inspected, and about three bagfuls went to the landfill. The little brown tunnels were there, all right, but on the inside, not the outside of the concrete block walls.

Earlier this week I called an exterminator company. I had to work up to doing it. I'd searched online, trying to find out what was involved. (Could we do it ourselves as somebody suggested? NOPE!) I looked at likely prices, which ranged from "Ulp" to OMG!!! I had to pair those with estimates, sight unseen, for a bathroom restoration also needed before putting the house on the market. Then weigh the room in the savings and credit budgets, vs. the likely profit from the home sale. 

The fellow from the most recommended company came out today. I pointed out the rooms we knew termites were in. It wasn't just the library, as they'd been chewing up the floor molding in Steve's room, adjacent to the library, and their presence discovered when he pulled out a small dresser to put in our next garage sale. 

Theoretically they're sleeping now. It's winter. I got some actual facts from the company rep this afternoon. They don't sleep here over winter. They don't need to avoid frozen ground because we don't have any. They will be in the house, or actually under the house, hanging out with their queen. Right now the fact that it just rained over an inch in the last three days should mean that they are active and looking for moist wood in the house or wherever they can find it. 

Typical construction here means they have adapted to take advantage. These basement-free houses are built over concrete slab framework. Think of that as like a picture frame. Inside that is another slab of concrete which the house is actually sitting on, with a break line between the two. That's where the termites get into the house. Their home is under it. Little crevices between the two give them egress, and there is always egress. They are tiny things. with tunnels about the width of a number 2 pencil lead.

How the exterminators address that is from the outside of the foundation, all around the house. They dig a trench, put their applicator in under the slab at a downward angle, and spray the dirt. Then repeat every so often so they get full coverage all around the perimeter. If they find signs that termites are up in the attic crawl space, they go up and dig around there and treat that too. (That's not a extra charge. I checked.) Then the termites move around in the dirt that's treated, seeking water, and the chemicals get all over their bodies. When they return to their colony, they get groomed, and the groomers get groomed, and so on and so on, until in about a month all the colony has been poisoned. 

We and the state both get a document that it has been done. The guarantee goes with the house, and an inspection and new treatment if necessary are available for a very reduced fee on an annual basis. 

They'll be back to treat the house on the 1st of February. We just have one thing to do first, in that week. Or should I say, Richard does. Both the patio and carport need to have everything cleared away from the outside walls by three feet so the exterminators have room to get in, drill, and spray. 

I only have doubts that it can be done in a week. We'll see. If it doesn't happen, there will be consequences. I promise!

Another New Scam

They walked up to the door, knocking, then again, then pounding on it loudly. Rude and impatient was my first impression. They were two young man, likely in their upper 20s, wearing jackets that said Kumquat. The lettering font matched but jacket colors didn't. Not exactly a company uniform then. The white car parked at the curb had no identifiers.

The started asking questions about my solar company and how much above that bill I was paying to the local electric company.

"None of your business." Just because they were asking didn't mean I had to answer.

They came back with, "It's exactly our business. Your company is (Xxxx), right. Due to their fraud they've been collecting money from you and not paying (my electric company) enough so you've been overpaying your electric bills. They've actually been kicked out of Arizona and our company is here to fix their mess."

OK, never mind how they knew my solar company. How hadn't I heard my solar company had been kicked out of AZ?  But I barely got the thought formed before they went on, asking to come in to talk to me about their taking over my solar system. I declined. A convenient just-post-covid coughing fit might have proved handy at that point, but it wasn't to be faked for the first time in a week. I'm supposed to keep coughing just to give the lungs exercise and help keep them clear. One starter cough is usually good for a  minute's worth. Even a laugh or lots of talking will do it.

I indicated I wasn't ready to deal with them. Maybe they should approach the new owners once we sold the house? In turn they tried to guilt me into taking care of yet another problem in the long list of pre-marketing the house duties I was dealing with. No way I needed another thing on that list. Without bothering to explain any of that, I indicated I wasn't interested. 

The leader of the two started getting a bit more aggressive. He was clearly in the right, I was clearly wrong, per his attitude. So when would be a better time for them to send their engineer out to talk to me and check out our system? 

I was just imagining the damage another set of boots tromping around on our shingles would tempt into happening. And just shut the door in their faces. I faintly heard the leader giving his cohort a derogatory description of me as I was walking away from the door to go sit back down.

Then I picked up the phone. Time to call the electric company. I figured if my solar company had been kicked out of the state, since my electric company had to deal with them, they'd know what was going on. If any of it was real, I had best be prepared come selling time. Five very informative minutes later, both ways, their answer was nothing happening here. They suggested I call the solar company.

I immediately did, and got the same answer. In both calls, the person I connected with referred to somebody supervising them to get the latest information. Nobody had heard anything like that.

Since I was on the phone I made inquiries of my own on the process for switching the solar contract over to the new buyer, or what other options there might be. Looks like the transfer of ownership, aka contract, should be a point in the home sale contract. I'll keep that in mind. That done, I started making a few other calls on my moving to-do list, getting the process details straight and written down. Obviously ending water, gas, and garbage pickup is a simple phone call with the next person responsible to start when they moved in and needed those services. Other contracts are a bit more complicated.

The final upshot of the afternoon's "entertainment" is just to let people know to double check anything people at the door want to engage in business with you about, especially including an alleged company called Kumquat!  

My next report is to the Attorney General's Fraud Task Force. I think I'll just include a link to this. I also walked next door to our new neighbor. There are a pair of vehicles at her house, and she'd been talking about getting solar. I wanted to make sure she wasn't a target. Turns out her house is getting painted inside, she has a lot more newly empty boxes for me, a realtor to recommend when the time comes, and the Kumquat guys stopped there but she wisely sent them on their way. But she's going to go get a new dog in a few minutes. And fence her back yard.

Progress?

 I'm still packing. Yes, slowly. Although the last few days I've had more energy physically, there is still a frustration with trying to balance the need to box things up in uniform containers with other people's need to be able to load the boxes into their moving container pretty much all at one time. 

The books we wanted to keep were heavy enough, and I made a point to pack them in fairly smallish boxes. Paper is pretty dense and small boxes get heavy quickly. It's probably pretty lucky that nearly all of the boxes which were available were fairly small ones. 

Then we got new neighbors. With lots of large boxes. So packing two boxes a day was making progress. The challenge was making them something which could be lifted. Not to mention moved around. Most of them are stacked two deep here and there around the house. Roadblocks. Some are along a wall where furniture leaves a space. Others jut out into the room they're in. Often an extra pillow - of which we seem to have a bunch - fills the top to ease the weight. But unfortunately, books are not the only heavy things in the place.

Rocks are plentiful. Start with sets of beautiful polished agate bookends. I'm still looking at them on their shelves. Each half is literally quite a handful. Then there are all the beads, cabochons, slabs, fossils, and so forth I've collected over the years. Some were intended for lapidary, some for making jewelry, some just collected for their beauty and maybe to pass down to a new generation in hopes they might appreciate the variety and beauty of rocks. As I was cleaning out the niches and compiling them in a single location, I discovered things I hadn't even seen in so long I had forgotten what they were. Or even that I'd had them.

Since there is no way I will be near the proper equipment to use 95% of them, it's time to get rid of them. Properly of course. It doesn't, fortunately, take a lot of energy to sort through small pieces of rocks and organize them into bags of multiple items ready for a garage sale. Three days did it. There are now three large bags on the living room floor full of small bags of multiple items ready to go over to the club. Prices per bag will be a quarter. I figure those bags will sit there until some time in February. After all, I don't see it as a good thing if I'm still coughing all over them and trying to sell them, even if I'm not contagious, or even at prices a tiny fraction of what they'd cost in a store or online. The tiny rest of that stuff, things like selected beads, wire, hand tools, are all packed into smaller boxes and set inside a tote. They fill it up, and yes, it's heavy. Even after pulling out about 80 pounds to sell, it's heavy.

That doesn't include the bookends of course. I still walk into that room and see those. But at least the tote had handles on each end for carrying. It's stacked inside the former closet on top of another tote, and under a very sturdy box. A very sturdy box. It's still empty of course, because it's perfect for all the little boxes still cluttering the shelves in there, the former library. Those little boxes will be filled with as yet unmade glass projects. I know what they are going to be and how they are going to be packed, each in bubble wrap in a little box. They will be more delicate than what I previously was making, and need the protection. However, they will also be heavy, despite all the air space. I know, since I'm hauling a bunch of pieces to the club later this morning for cutting, and I know how heavy those are. Glass is just another rock, after all, just one that flows under heat, like obsidian from a volcano.

I'm taking Rich along, partly to help carry stuff in, but also to keep me "legal" in club terms. Sundays are days the club isn't used except on very rare occasions, and most of those have been me, popping in to pull something from a kiln and put the next thing in one, or perhaps sending out a club email when others aren't on the computer for other business. On those times I'm always in there with the door open, in case. We're all seniors and even apparently healthy ones doing simple things can have a medical incident. Another person is needed to alert 911 if needed, and the door must be left open for access. The staff do not have keys, nor can they see if somebody is helpless inside if the door is closed. If I'm just on the computer for ten minutes, there is usually a staffer walking by in the hall who knows I'm there and my expectations for leaving.

I have specific projects in mind. Less than 2 months, best (or worst, depending on how long it takes the house to sell) case to get them done. Many of those are already designated for specific people. Others will find recipients later. Some of the designated ones are for people along our route north, and will be packaged in some of those little boxes separate from the rest, kept in reach in the car as we go. I have to wait to pack the rest, not just because they're not done yet, but because of the possibilities for glass disasters. Glass does what it wants to, not what I want it to, though increasing skills and experience do help. And it does break upon impact. If something is ruined, it can't be easily substituted for with something else if that other thing is packed and sealed away. 

That is the long way of saying I'm still walking into the library, seeing full shelves lining the walls. Not empty ones looking for another fresh coat of paint. Packing materials fill the shelves as well as empty boxes. Even wrapping paper and gift tags are involved. Until I'm finished with glass, it will be so. It really doesn't help, except with a lot of persuasion, to know those shelves have been cleared out twice now since we got back south. The books are gone.The jewelry makings are packed away, or ready to be sold but sitting off in another room. The shelves are still loaded as high up as I can reach, and the center of the floor is still loaded with larger packing boxes, still empty and waiting. 

Soon as I'm done with that room except for the final loading to head north, and the shelves are emptied, ready for the painting, the center of the floor will again be ready for filling, this time by Rich. He needs a place to put his stuff in, ready for his leaving. He can't organize until he has a space to put things in he needs to keep or sell. Since his stuff has the most chaos, it's pretty much a stopping point for him, so I need to clear the middle out for him. I believe we can do it while leaving room to go around the walls painting shelves. He'll be able to pack vertically once organized and clear space for his area to be cleaned and painted. It's that... or a dumpster. Hard stop. Covid hasn't helped things speed along.

Progress? I'm trying to convince myself.

So She Let Her Snakes Die...

It was on the news tonight. Just another "this is how bad the weather is" episode. Power went out, houses lost heat. The young woman being interviewed was discussing that her fish (aquarium, I presume) died from the cold. Then she added that of course her ball pythons died too.

Sorry, girly, that latter is plain negligence. And you are a terrible animal keeper. Stupid as well. It would have been so easy to keep them alive.

First, she had the sense to keep non poisonous snakes. Pythons are constrictors, not pit vipers. (If you are reckless enough to keep pit vipers, and try this, you deserve the results.) It's very easy to keep them warm even when the electricity goes out. Here's how it goes. Put each one inside a pillowcase, one in good condition, no holes, and tie the top in a knot so it can't escape. Then, dressing yourself warmly, and wearing a jacket with some kind of belt or drawstring around the bottom to keep gravity from having its way, tuck each pillowcase inside your jacket next to your body. Your heat will keep your reptiles alive, and containment in a knotted pillowcase will keep any constricting motion from gripping you and squeezing. They will get enough air unless you are wrapped in plastic. They don't need food or water for a couple days or longer.

If you are going to keep reptiles, in a cold climate, where electricity can be problematic, at least research some obvious ways of properly caring for them. Anything else is simple animal cruelty. You don't deserve animals in your care. They certainly don't deserve you.

"Promise You'll Tell Me...."

More packing. A box here. Later a box there. Later can be hours or days right now. Exhaustion sets in easily, rest is demanded. On this, day 7, coughing has taken hold. It's not productive, just a kind of tickle prompting it, and like a really good spring it keeps going and going.... 

We test our fingers for O2 and heartrate, and the little gizmo never drops O2 into the 80s. So the coughing is annoying but not scary. Sleep isn't happening as well as usual, and Steve and I both wonder if that has anything to do with our meds. I just know I drop my very tired head on the pillow and the brain immediately starts spinning, sometimes about packing - honest! - but more often about the glass projects to be finished before we leave, how short time is getting, and how little is getting done in/to the house with all of us sick. We can't even have contractors in for another week to give estimates, much less schedule work.

This morning's box was packing clothes out of the closet that I'm sure I can get along without until they are unpacked in our new space up north. Winter things. Long sleeves, long pants, shirts with warm collars, sweatchirts. So-o-o-o many sweatshirts! It's been a hassle to get into the back corner of the closet on that side - how I divide up my closet, cold vs. hot weather clothes - that I've been amazed at how much I really have. I have to get through the rest of AZ "winter", head home through mountains for what may be last visits with relatives, thus take extra days in high altitudes in still early spring, and probably do it with a hamper full of dirty clothes that will get packed that way as well. 

Even when (if?)  I get the closet finished to the point where it is winnowed down to a packable/wearable remnant to travel with, there will be a whole bunch in boxes. Plural, boxes. I still haven't figured out what to do with all the hangers for them, though I might just stick them in very sturdy plastic bags in large bunches and tape them closed, to be tossed in the PODS or whatever we move them in, into whatever spare pockets of room are available. We just bought more hangers a couple months back, the extra thick, sturdy plastic ones that won't droop under heavy jeans or even blankets across the bottom bar. They take up a lot of room, but don't sag creating wrinkles, or break when the clothing on them drags across the next garment in a packed closet.

Packing them all is daunting. I asked Steve to make me a promise. If he ever sees me pick up another copy of my favorite clothing company's catalogue to do anything other than recycle it, he's to tell me I have plenty of clothes now. Just because they're having a 75% off sale, or carry the comfiest clothes I've yet found, or have styles I'm OK wearing in colors I like, or their knit slacks have drawstring waists so I can change sizes and still wear them out eventually because they'll still fit, not stretch, and not drop off for two or three years....

Don't let me buy any more.

Promise me.

Please.