Origin: "Hello, name is "A", and I'm a garage-sale-aholic." (I've been in recovery for a good 15 years, see confession.)
How long kept: Geez, I would guess since the late 80s?
Usage: Never. Other than moving it closer and closer to the exit door of my apartment over the past months.
Why kept: I Might Fix It. (And then It Would Be Cool/Vintage and Someone Might Need It.)
Destination: Good Old NYC Landfill. (Gulp. Sorry.)
Confession: The extent of this baby's damage was not trivial. It's brass cover was banged up and dented. The handle had fallen off. The entire thing, which was largely vinyl, was kind of squashed. (Viewed from above, it appeared to be slightly oval shaped, which meant that the round cover would not ever fit on it again. Even if fixed.)
Aargh.
Confession, part deux: I still love a good garage sale. But I rarely buy anything. Though I'm still a sucker for vintage embroidered linens and those gaily printed flowered tablecloths from the 40s and beyond. ("M" got me a very Christmas embroidered tablecloth and napkin set at the Freecycle Free Meet.)
Aargh.
Confession, part trois: Broken stuff. "Potential" is a theme in Randy Frost and Gail Skeketee's book about hoarding, Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things.
People who truly have an issue with hoarding keep stuff because they see potential that the rest of us might not see.I'm not a hoarder, clinically speaking. But "potential" is embedded in many of the reasons that I have held onto stuff -- and nowhere as inexplicably as with broken stuff. Clothing that might be mended, and wearable by "someone", check. (Now dispatched to textile recycling. Whew.)
Thanks to eBay, I've seen how little most of my Cool/Vintage stuff that's in mint condition is worth.* So while this was a bit Sticky, and it took a bit of time, it went down the trash chute the day before I left on vacation.
Broken stuff, begone.
(*A clock I bought for a dollar in the 80s may be the exception to this rule. Stay tuned.)
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