The pack rat in me is revealed

Ah, the trials and tribulations of moving from one home to another.

When I moved to Columbia Falls in July of 2007, I knew I was going to be renting for awhile. The problem was finding a nice, affordable house or apartment. I was fortunate enough to come across a decent place, but that was not until a week before I was moving from southwestern Idaho.

I've had a lot of experience moving, beginning with my job with my father, who was an independent contractor for Mayflower Van Lines in the 1970s and 80s. I rode with him one summer in the early 70s, then became his relief driver for a year. We'd load furniture and other belongings for a couple of days, then drive to the unloading site and unload. I learned how to pack a load to avoid damage, and how to carry everything without getting a hernia.

DURING THE WINTER of 2007-08, I had my Realtor, Eileen, keep an eye open for a home for me. It didn't have to be very large, but I wanted a nice home. Then things changed. I became engaged to a wonderful woman, Diane, and we were married in mid-March. During our engagement, the search for a nice home accelerated, and just the right property popped up. A three-bedroom, two-bath home with a fenced yard and two-car garage — in a good neighborhood.

We had a lofty goal: to make an offer on the property, enter into a buy-sell agreement and close the deal — all within 3 1/2 weeks. And, thanks to Eileen and Tom, my mortgage lender, we pulled it off. We closed the loan only one day later than the target — so we were able to move into the new home the last weekend of March (since I had to be out of my rental by March 31).

Due to pursuing employment in my career field, journalism, and other factors, I moved several times in the last four or five years. And every time I moved, I swore to "get rid of" all those things in unopened boxes I kept lugging around, from home to home. I figure if I don't use something within a couple of years, having a need to unpack it, I don't need it at all. But I'm a pack rat. I can't seem to turn loose of all those "treasures."

The same goes for clothes. There are probably others, but I don't know of any guy anywhere near my age who has the collection of clothing that I have. Shirts I haven't worn in five years or more. Old jackets. Old T-shirts (my collection was whittled from about 50 to a mere 20 or so now).

DIANE AND I have a plan. She has a lot of "stuff" she doesn't want to keep, so we're going to host a garage sale, probably late in April or early May. There will be quite a collection of things we couldn't live without for so many years but now MUST sell — or give away or donate to charity. I vow to sort my clothes and tag at least 40 percent of it for our garage sale.

So when you see a garage sale on 11th Avenue West in Columbia Falls, that could be us. We'll have a nice, big modern desk. A dryer that works very well. A 27-inch TV. An older yet solid recliner. And, as they say, "more items too numerous to mention." I'm advertising the desk, dryer and TV in the newspaper, but some of them could be holdovers for the Sova garage sale. Now, does that sound like something you've been thinking of doing but you can't come to part with those treasures? When you combine belongings like Diane and I have, something's gotta give. And the solution — a garage sale.

But what Diane and I should not do (I haven't talked to her about this yet) — go to other garage sales and buy things similar to what we are selling or giving away. We do need a nice barbecue and a new or nearly-new lawn mower, but really no more than that as absolute needs.

But aren't garage sales an American way of life? I get a kick out of people who say, "no early birds" in their garage sale ads. But you know if you say the sale starts at 8 a.m. people will be coming by at least an hour before to have the pick of the litter. After all, the early bird gets the good stuff!

Joe Sova is the managing editor of the Hungry Horse News.