Record albums, that is.
I've started sorting through my crap in anticipation of the Giant Yard Sale From Hell*, and I found a bunch of albums in a cabinet behind the couch.
Yeah, I need to clean more often.
Anyhow, I've got, like, a hundred record albums from the eighties. Styx, anyone? How about some nice Pat Benatar? Billy Joel?
I've got some older stuff that I may have inherited from my sister Ditzy - Rita Coolidge, Crosby, Stills & Nash, the Beatles, etc.
And I've even got some stuff that I'm pretty certain belonged to my Dad - Doc Severinsen, E. Power Biggs. (What? You've never heard of E. Power Biggs?! He was a famous organist!)
Some of the stuff is inexplicable - The Statler Brothers? Really? Tony Orlando and Dawn? And I thought Yma Sumac only existed in crossword puzzles.
There is some stuff that I simply cannot part with. The 1776 soundtrack, for one. Oh, and "Free to Be You and Me" - that was some revolutionary shit back when I was, like, ten.
Here's the thing - I know from my experience at other people's garage sales that people will actually flip through piles of old records - I'm not sure if anybody ever actually buys any, but I've seen creepy-looking middle-aged guys flipping through them - so there is hope. I guess I'll just put them in a pile, mark it 25 cents each, and see what happens.
And if a great big pile of record albums ends up at the thrift store after the yard sale, so be it.
*originally I was just going to cart everything over to the Sal Army, but I need to fund my lawn mower.