I was in college when I first was introduced to yard sales. A young lady asked me if I wanted to go to some yard sales. She was so sweet I would have gone anywhere with her. I said “Yes,” almost before the words were out of her mouth.

Now, at that time I didn’t know exactly what a yard sale was. I had lived in the country for some time and the last time I lived in a city setting, there had been no yard sales. They were a new invention as far as I knew. I had a concept of what a yard sale was and how I could benefit from going to them. Not saying it was correct, but I had an idea. That idea was to buy up the four-square feet of yard in front of the door to people’s houses. Once it was established that I owned it, I would put up a turnstile so that it cost a quarter to get in the front door. I figured that the outlay would be eclipsed by the income within a short time and everything from there on would be gravy.

Well, I was wrong. They weren’t selling their yards. They were selling stuff in their yards. All kinds of stuff. Well, that little lady introduced me to an addiction I’ve had for years. I go to yard sales and buy stuff I think I’m going to use or fix up and use or sell. It gets put in the garage for the time being. After my garage was full, I rented a space to put the overflow. Well, it wasn’t long before all the bargains I found and bought filled up the rental as well. It was time for me to have a yard sale.

So the yin and yang has progressed over the years until my kids started putting me on a path to simplification, which simply means get rid of all that stuff. Now I sit, broken hearted that the deer head lamp, wired so that a light bulb screwed into its nose, is now gone. I meant to fix it. It only needed just a little piece of wire-

I couldn’t help myself. I was living in a city with yard sales all around me. I was like a junkie who needed a fix and could see what I craved on almost ever corner. Hey, another one was just across the street. There’s a sign. Look down the alley- Something had to be done. I moved to a small, quiet little town of about 1,300 people, Brownsville, Oregon. I thought I would be safe here. There wouldn’t be a lot of yard sales in this little out of the way place. No one would show up if one did exist. There weren’t enough local yard sale junkies like me to get successful sale going. I could walk the streets safely knowing that I wouldn’t be triggered by yard sale signs on every telephone pole. In short, I could deal with my addiction.

Boy was I wrong! I didn’t realize that one Saturday out of the year, the whole town becomes a yard sale. Yes, the whole town. The population of the town at least triples on this day. Yard sales pop up all over the place like mushrooms after an Oregon rain. The streets are clogged with vehicles and pedestrians rushing around as much as one can rush with the streets all clogged up.

You can find just about anything in Brownsville on this day. If you can’t find it, it probably doesn’t exist. On top of all the merchandise there is to peruse, one can buy cotton candy, hot dogs, ice cream, lemonade, popcorn- all kinds of treats one might find at a fair or a circus.

A circus is what it is. It starts at 8 am with cars pouring into the town. Soon you will see people trying to park in impossible places, pedestrians loaded with goods bravely stepping out in front of moving cars, and emotional support dogs on leashes while kids roam free unleashed. People are intent on finding that one bargain no one else has discovered yet and nothing is going to get in their way.

I am proud to say that I weathered the storm. My feet went out into the streets. My mind took in what was happening. I saw all the deals. But I kept my money in my pocket. I only bought a pair of pants (imagine finding a pair of pants in my size when I have such short legs!) and a book of unpublished Mark Twain essays and letters. My garage will remain almost empty. I will not need to rent a storage room. I have finished my 12 steps and now I’m cured of my addiction.

Did you hear about that huge sale next weekend?