I woke up thinking about the Goodwill, because they were scheduled to some to my house today and pick up several pieces of furniture that had been cluttering up our house since we got new stuff.
And I certainly appreciate my good fortune that I was able to replace my livingroom furniture (which was almost 8 years old) and bedroom furniture (given to us by friends in 1984. I'm not kidding.).
But subsequently, I'd had dressers in the loft and a headboard in the exercise room and a sofa in the garage for a month too long, and I really wanted it gone.
The Goodwill only comes to our area on Wednesdays. We were gone December 26, so that was a no-go; I had it scheduled for last week, and stayed home until 9:30 waiting for them, but couldn't wait any longer--so I rescheduled for today.
See the problem? For those of us who are out of the house every weekday? First, there's one day a week they can come to your neighborhood; second, they give you a time frame (8:30-noon; noon to 4) and you are stuck waiting until they come.
If only Tony hadn't sold his truck! I miss his truck! This would have been a non-problem if he still had that truck! People with trucks are LUCKY! (They can also get their Christmas trees to the recycling on time, instead of having a dead tree in your back yard until April. Like us.)
So, I made the commitment to work at home this morning, whether the Goodwill came at 8:30 or at noon.
The good news: They came about 9.
The bad news: After telling one of the crew (of two) that I had items in the garage and upstairs, he informed me that "we can't go upstairs to get stuff. Didn't they tell you?"
Well no, "they" did not. I had spoken to two different ladies on at least six occasions, between scheduling, rescheduling, and reminder calls. Never had either one said anything about "no upstairs."
I was one determined donor. No way was I going to let this Goodwill truck get away without all my stuff.
So I began to haul that headboard downstairs myself. That sucker was heavy. I thought I could slide it down the stairs, but the thing seemed to have a mind of its own. I ended up being the brakes as it slipped downstairs.
Thank goodness--one member of the crew took pity on me, and decided "breaking the rules" was better than watching a 52-year-old woman surfing her stairs on a bookcase headboard.
He not only helped me with it, he also helped haul the two dressers down. Without riding them.
He was great.
They left with all the stuff, and left me with a tax receipt ("It's between you, God and the IRS how much you put down," my helper said) and a sore back. But thank goodness, didn't leave me with my stuff.
God, it's hard to give stuff away!
Well, how 'bout you? Are you givin' or gettin'?