The Path Of The Badger, aka Rules of the Road, pt. 2

Are you inspired to follow The Path of The Badger?

Autumn is the best time to give curb-shopping a try because Folks are feeling their Inner Squirrel. New stuff goes in to the nest. Old stuff goes to the curb...and, if you want, into your nest. Or sell it and watch it go to someone else’s nest. Just keep it out of the landfill, ok?

1.  Before You Drive, Dump Your Junk. Put seats down and haul out that in-car/minivan storage box. Trust me, if you don’t, you will hate that clutter—and yourself—when you are desperate for the last cubic inch needed to shut the door and get that electric children’s motorcycle back to your home.



Thought I was kidding? I. Never. Kid. I sold it, too.
 

2.  Head Out Late, Not Early.  For me, 8-10 pm is the best time to cruise the curbs of suburbia. The kids are in bed, watched over by my Prince of the Forest. Residents are inside, so I can mutter over their trash without weirding out or offending them.
I’m not a morning person anyway, but the one time I got out before the trash trucks, I found myself competing with small men in a dusty pink utility van. At the first house where our entrepreneurial businesses collided, the men, polite Central American immigrants, left me to pick through the goodies. By the third house, they knew, KNEW, something was up, and their polite smiles vanished.

Better not to tread on others’ toes. Just get there first, so you can dream while they roll with the early birds.

btw: I was going to title this rule "The Late Bird Catches the Worm." Then I remembered Rule #4 from "Rules of the Road, pt. 1" (maggots!) and decided against being clever.

3.  Do Not Camouflage Yourself. Let’s be honest: If I saw someone wearing black and a baseball cap rummaging through my trash pile at midnight, I'd call the cops. Also, you are less likely to get hit by a car if you wear light colors.

Anyway, you are doing these people a service... in an odd, little symbiotic way. Be proud!

This family told me they were moving back to France.
Thanks to sales from their curb, my kids went to France, too!

4. People Who Move Away Throw Out Stuff.

Wise realtors believe in “Staging.”
It's a professional’s way of saying, “Get your crap out of here, or no one else is going to want to live here.” Thus, those “For Sale” signs are also “Curb Sale” signs.

6. People Who Throw Out One Thing Will Throw Out Everything. I've seen this again and again.
First, something small goes out, maybe a DIY project that someone finally admits is not going to happen.
The next week: ”Hmmm, maybe this old garden hose, this splintery step-ladder, and this 3-drawer Sterilite organizer…..” 

There it is again. I have loads of these.
Are New Yorkers so organized that they can throw out their organizers?

By Week 4, this household is going for The Big High, emptying out the entire basement, den, craft room, kid’s playroom… I kid you not. 

Which should we blame for this behavior: serotonin or dopamine?

6a. Folks Who Witness Neighbors Trash Good Stuff Get Competitive.  Everybody around here wants that “I cleaned house” high! One night, two houses, side by side, curbed top-notch golf club sets with all the extras. What was their story—a double-dog dare?

When Westchester neighbors get competitive about tossing out their goods, some streets resemble an abandoned late-night flea market. I can find bookcases and libraries of books, patio furniture, computers, stereos, sporting equipment,  an array of luggage, master bedroom sets, American Girl Doll accessories...sometimes all at the same house.

It's the trash equivalent of High Stakes Poker. And to get in the game, almost everyone offers up a garden hose. I look up and down some streets and wonder, Is everyone buying the new as-seen-on-TV “Pocket Hose”?

America, Resist! If your hose ain't broke...

 

 

One last bit of advice:

Before you drag it home, ask yourself, “If I’m not going to use this, do I have space to store it until I find it a home?” I am only beginning to consider this one. If the answer is NO, you do not have to leave it behind. If there’s room in the car, pick it up and deliver it to the nearest Salvation Army or Goodwill, co-operative pre-school, or like-minded local organization.

Can’t fit it in the car? Call a friend. My friend is Hank, of Hank’s Alley in Tarrytown, the only second-hand store in these parts that does not claim to be an "Antique" store. Hank's prices reflect that attitude, too: “Honey, if you don’t like the price, never mind it. I can do better!” He's supplied nearly half the furniture in my little home. That is the kind of friend who deserves a good turn.

Copyright 2013 Tanya Monier