A few weeks back my cousin mentioned having a garage sale at our place. She is moving from her house soon, but has had so many sales there, she wanted to try a different area of town.

This made me go into my shed and start looking through the CDs and books I have boxed up. Then I checked online to see if any of those things had any value.

Apparently, they did. It was a little baffling, but then I do have some stuff that has been out of print for a while. Because they were barely in print in the first place. Isn't it interesting that CDs are out of "print"?

So I set to listing a ton of used CDs on Amazon. If the item is listed on Amazon's website, you can sell used (or new) copies on there, too. And you can set your own price (and get shipping and handling on top of it).

Even though I hadn't listened to them in quite a while (and many of them, I hadn't listened to much at all), it seems someone out there is willing to pay a little more than a quarter for some of this music. Do you remember a band called Heavy Bones? I sold their eponymous CD for $18. In about two days.

Of course, eBay also does this. But I've always been uneasy about eBay. I've sold one item (a pre-famous Kid Rock cassette) on eBay, and that was about seven years ago. I've never bought anything on eBay. And while this may change eventually, I've always felt like it was kind of a low-rent swap meet.

When I've looked up collectibles I want to sell on eBay, I've noticed that bidding was low or non-existent. Most things were selling for much less than they should, if they sold at all. It must be a buyer's market. And, as I'm a seller, this doesn't make me feel good.

Going through all my crap (the stuff I haven't used in a while and most likely will never use again) and the memories creep into my mind. What I was doing when I bought or received said item. What my job was. How I felt about the item. And then, well, the fact that I feel nothing for it now.

The memory is there, but the emotion is gone. It's time to part ways.

And the garage sale now rages (simmers really) on my driveway. I have a box of CDs (25 cents you choose!) and a few books (50 cents each). I think I'm up about a buck twenty-five right now. But it's about clearing out the old.

The last month has lent itself to this type of thinking. It's hot, and I have too much stuff I need to get rid of. I gotta lighten my load. Some of it might be worth something (and so not in the garage sale--which is dominated by my cousin's merchandise), and a few avenues are open for selling these items.

But I've found that I have no idea what people want to buy. Or why it tickles their fancy. Sometimes, if it's too expensive (there is a hanging ceramic plant pot that about ten people have asked "how much?" and two dollars, apparently, is too much), it won't go. And then, well, if it's what someone wants (why, it's hard to say), they'll pay for it (a $25 necklace went after a couple of inquiries). They have a new possession, and their money washes away our old memories.

Will I miss any of this? No. It's all been sitting in a shed for the last few years, so I haven't been using it. Haven't been thinking about it. Really have no need for it.

All these pretty little rags and bones. Maybe you can give it a home.

I don't know why you might want it. Of course, I sometimes don't remember why I got it in the first place.

It's all for sale, though. You can help me by deleting things from memory. By giving me a bit of beer and pizza money. By taking it off my hands.

I will feel as if I'm lighter, somehow. More buoyant, perhaps. Ready to face the new world in front of us with, well, a few less boxes of crap.

Did I say crap? I meant precious memories for you and yours in the years to come.

Matt Worley isn't for sale, but some of his stuff is.