The consignment game also known as WE OWN TOO MUCH SHIT

This weekend I sold some stuff in a local community consignment sale.  Everybody prices their stuff, tags it, and drags it to a local sports complex.  For three (or more) days, people pick through your stuff and decide whether your price matches their budget.  Whether your taste matches their taste.  Whether your junk is their treasure.  


My take was 70% minus a $10 publicity fee, which means I came home with $127.  When I had my in-home pre-consignment sale, I made about $66.  So almost $200 total.  My goal is to make enough consigning to buy the kids' clothes and shoes for the next season.  


When I consign I price my stuff really cheap.  I have two reasons for doing this.  One, as a shopper, I will not spend more than $2.50 or so on a consigned single clothing item.  Two, as a seller, I just want the shit outta my house so I am willing to get a couple bucks out of it than have it linger in my closets.  


Given than this is my modus operandi, my panties get in a twist when I see clothing items, like a single shirt, with a tag for $10 and NO DISCOUNT.  I rarely spend $10 on a brand spanking new clothing item for my kids.  Why would I spend that much on a used item?  


Tonight when I went to pick up my check, there were tons of people carrying out giant bins of unsold clothing, and I thought, "These are the folks who overprice and don't discount."  They have their own reasons for pricing as they do, but it was a pain in the ass lugging my crap up there.  I sure as shit don't want to lug it all home.  


It is kinda sad, but I am already looking forward to the August consignment sales since I will be getting rid of a lot of the big baby items--the bumbo seat, the swing, the bouncy seat, the floor playmat, the baby bathtub, one of our 3 strollers.  


I sold 93 items this weekend.  So 93 fewer things in my house.  But there is still entirely too much crap in my house.  


Going through all this clutter has made me think a lot about death and what happens to a person's stuff when he/she dies.  Whenever I'm pricing my stuff, I try to think about its uselessness to me in the big scheme of things.  A part of me might think it "should" be worth $10, but the truth is that it is worth far, far less than that.  My mother always says she never had any luck selling stuff in yard sales, but I think it's because she has a heightened sense of value, as in she thinks her stuff is more valuable than it is.  



Whodathunk consigning would be an exercise in existentialism?