Saturday, June 1, 2013
Today I had a yard sale. Being very analytical, I debated over each detail – when should I hang the signs? The day before, or the morning of my sale? And where? And how large did they need to be? Tape or nails? Should I post pictures online of the items I was selling? Should I run the ad in other publications? Should I bring a sign to the location of other yard sales in the area – so perhaps they can send their customers to my house once they’re finished. I know I can make myself a little meshugana worrying about silly points – but I like knowing I put 100% effort in each endeavor. I was so worried about this yard sale, as it seems like such a new and foreign event to plan…..until, for some reason, I remembered another yard sale I hosted…17 years ago.
I was moving out of the house in
How naïve I had been in believing that my ex husband was going to buy
another house after renting for a year – in an attempt to alleviate his
non-payment of taxes for over 10 years.
He had sworn he would never live in Newton – only because he knew that’s where I
wanted to live and raise my children. He
had to be the decision maker…as well
as coming up with the original idea. How
stupid was it to agree to live in a rental house for 1 year, just prior to
going on the market? But, we all make
mistakes….and we all digress…..
At that time, all yard sales ads were printed in local newspapers. My ex was living with his mistress in her house and I was planning on moving further North with the children, which was closer to my new job. He never read the paper, but he relied on his source of information from my (former) best friend. They had an ongoing affair and she reported everything I was doing or planning. So, it should have come as no surprise when midday during my yard sale, he pulled up in his
4-Runner and screamed out the window, “You can’t have this sale! You’re selling marital assets!”
Ironically, there was a woman there chatting with my mother, who was helping out. The woman looked up when she heard the yelling. “Who is that?....He looks familiar…” My mother told her who he was, as the woman happened to be a former teacher at
. Upon hearing his name, the woman nodded her
head. “Yes, I remember him. He was extremely problematic. Your daughter is lucky to be away from
him.” Needham High School
The event was actually something I later laughed about. On drives with friends, if we saw a yard sale, we’d yell out the windows, “Get away from those marital assets!” and then burst into laughter. It never ceases to amaze me that the more I learn and reflect on the characteristics of a scorned narcissistic sociopath, the luckier I feel to be free.
Today, my yard sale was not as successful as I would have liked, but it was a start in unloading some unwanted items. It was a quiet and peaceful day with no unwarranted interruptions from a crazy man yelling at me from his window. But, I had already unloaded that unwanted item 17 years ago.