ode to the neighborhood resale group

Oh, little neighborhood resale group. I loved you since my hair stylist and friend first told me about you, Swaperoo. You are the things of which a stay-at-home mom’s dreams are made.

I walk around my house. I take a picture with my phone. I post it on your page. I get interest! I line up a pick-up time. I put my junk on my porch. And people put their money in my mailbox.

Oh, Swaperoo, you were made for this girl who read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and moved a few short months later. You were made for my closet purge and my pantry purge and my bathroom cabinet purge and my craft cabinet purge and my sewing supplies purge and my basement purge. You were an unexpected way to make $500 in a few weeks, and I loved it.

Because of you, I no longer think, “But we’ll only use this a couple times.” Instead I think, “We’ll use this a couple times and then sell it for almost as much!” It’s as if I’m just paying rent for this quilt batting or baby cardigan or Toms wedges or Costco-sized bottle of Lysol. I use it a bit, and when it’s no longer worth its space in our home, I get some money back.

But oh, the items I can not sell. The items that still have met their fate at Goodwill. The exercise ball, and the very dirty shoes, and single curtain panel. I bump them  on your page over and over again (“What does bump mean?”), and still, no bites. I drop the price, or even mark them free, and still nothing. You don’t want a tiny little bottle brush? You don’t want to take this to Goodwill yourself in two months? Okay, I understand!

I have triumphed in the “next” game on several occasions, and I am proud. The IKEA bench and the Frye boots! You were steals, and we all knew it. I swooped in, I waited patiently, and I nabbed them. Thankfully, I get good use out of both of them. And when they’re no longer useful to me? I’ll have a line of people waiting to come to my porch to take my junk and put money in my mailbox.

  • Margaret

    Seriously the best. My version is on fb.