Within the hour I will be going to stand in line for an estate sale not two miles from here. It is in a subdivision of McMansions, and the accumulation of things pictured on the Estate Sale company's website is staggering. Two hundred cookbooks, tables covered with crystal and china, lamps and conservatory furniture, and reproduction oils of antique jockeys on antique horses. A table full of designer handbags for those interested in that sort of thing, and size 8 shoes and size 8 clothes. Much expensive looking furniture that may attract dealers. Rugs and clocks and God knows what else.
There is so much to sell that the sale continues next weekend into Phase 2.
I have been skipping sales lately since I have more stuff than I need, but this sale is irresistible. I am going to cruise the kitchen and the "nice linens". Perhaps to look for a pair of sensible shoes- the only kind I wear.
Yet I also go to estate sales out of sociological curiosity. To speculate on where all the money came from and why people buy multiple sets of elegant silverware and why a woman needs more than four or five pairs of shoes. I do not doubt I will also see the inevitable hospital commode chair, the wheelchair, the sad reminders of failing health. There is always sadness at the heart of an estate sale-