Sunday’s big purge turned out to be less of a clean break and more of a quiet standoff, me versus my own hesitation. The truth is, I wasn’t sure whether I should truly let it all go or tuck some of it away, just in case. Maybe the universe was listening to my uncertainty, because the garage sale mirrored it perfectly: slow, scattered, and unsure of itself. Not exactly the grand farewell I imagined, but maybe a reflection of where I am, still caught somewhere between release and readiness.

And honestly, who approved a Sunday garage sale? Some of us still treat Sundays as sacred, not a day to dig through a stranger’s collection of holiday decorations, mismatched mugs and emotional baggage. That’s Saturday energy. Sunday is for rest, brunch, and perhaps quiet repentance… not bargaining over old yard tools and ceramic snowmen.

Still, the sale had its moments. A woman gave me five bucks for a ceramic rooster I’ve been emotionally avoiding since 2008, and my Facebook Marketplace post for six patio chairs, with no table, somehow went viral. Apparently, incomplete patio sets are the hot new thing. Who knew? If that’s not a metaphor for rebuilding, people finding value in the pieces you thought weren’t enough, I don’t know what is.

And maybe that’s the point, I didn’t need everything to disappear in one afternoon. Maybe it’s okay that some things stayed behind. It gave me space to laugh at myself, catch my breath, and remember that starting over doesn’t have to happen in one dramatic sweep. Sometimes it looks like quietly hauling a half-full box back into the garage and whispering, “Next Saturday, maybe.”

But Monday brought real momentum. After a string of hard conversations and caffeine-fueled decisions at work, the inspection results finally landed: clear to close. No red flags, no gut punches, no hidden disasters. Just quiet permission to move forward. In 24 days, this chapter closes, and the next one begins.

So maybe it wasn’t the garage sale of the century, and maybe I’ll be dragging a few boxes back out this Saturday with fresh price tags and lower expectations, but things are happening. The inspection gave me the green light, the patio chairs sparked more interest than my dating life, and for the first time in a while, I feel like the universe and I might be co-authoring this next chapter instead of arguing over the outline. I’m not just letting go, I’m clearing space. And with 24 days on the countdown clock, I’m finally ready to start scoping out the set of what’s next…