It started with the humidor.

It started with the humidor.  It was not the kind you put on a dresser or a side table.   No, it was the size of a dishwasher.  Jack Nicolson, George Burns, Winston Churchill, Castro, and Groucho Marx could have easily shared this humidor. It was big. 

We got the humidor at one of those moments that you are not sure how it happened.  We were at a wedding.  There were cigars being smoked.  There was champagne.  There was laughter.  And before you know it, we are accepting a second-hand humidor the size of our bathroom.  The humidor kicked around our house for a few years.  It held a few cigars and some sable paint brushes.  But this was a crazy waste of space in a tiny house, which holds six people and a dog. 

We started to clean out the garage that weekend and the humidor was going … come hell or high water.  We decided not to hassle with selling it.  We had a vision of ballroom dancing in our garage or maybe even parking a car in there.  Yes, we would give away the humidor, just as it had come into our lives.

A secret to all those single guys and gals out there who want to meet guys – advertise that you are giving away a free humidor.  You will get attention.  I made my post on  “Freestuff.”  Within an hour I had 18 guys e-mailing me that they wanted the humidor.  “Call me.”  “Text me.”  “e-mail me”  “I can be over in a half hour!”   I promised it to the first guy who responded.  He worked at Nordstoms and had an SUV.  He also said his partner would help him move it.   He fit the bill as someone I would hold the humidor for --- employed, appropriate vehicle for the object his was picking up and a friend to help him move it. 

This may sound logical to you…. based on common sense.  But I have learned not to expect such behavior on free stuff.  People call for free furniture only to tell me they don’t have a car, a truck or any friends or relatives with a vehicle. 

I learned this that first weekend we gave stuff away on Craigslist.  Our garage really was hideous.  We had done a construction project two years ago, which meant packing up all the stuff in our basement including the tool room.  But there really was a much longer-term history of what was in our garage.  Before we moved to Westchester we lived in an apartment in Park Slope and Craig had a studio in Williamsburg.  The Williamsburg studio could support three architects / draftsmen at once.  It was a different time in our lives those 15 years ago, but much of the furniture had followed us through a rental house and 12 years of construction in this house.  Now that we were DONE with gutting and rebuilding, it was clear what architectural furniture would stay and what would go.  We had also decided to streamline down to one closet for tools and hardware.

The furniture included a drafting table the size of an elephant, drafting stools, wheelie carts and flat files.  We also cleaned out architecture technical books and lamps.  There were supplies from various home improvement projects we didn’t finish or would never do again – like wall paper removal tools and several caulking guns. 

With the exception of the humidor, which was insanely heavy, I did all my posts as “Curb Alerts” and listed the items as clearly as I could. 

One of the first people to come by was a mother and son from Scarsdale.  He was hauling away armloads of technical and design books.  The mother drove a high-end car and they arrived literally minutes after I posted.  I asked her if she checks Free stuff on Craigslist often, the speed with which she arrived amazed me.  She told me she was pretty addicted to checking FreeStuff, especially on Saturdays.  I asked her son, who in his early 20s if he was an architect or engineer.  Before he could speak, his mother told me that he had just graduated from Pratt with a degree in architecture and that he had a job.  “The market is horrible but he got a job. He was top of his class.”  The son was physically embarrassed.   I asked the son who he was working for and he told me one of his teachers has a small practice.  I asked what kind of work and his mother said “he works until 11 at night all the time.  He is really working hard.”  I nodded.  “Yes, it is a very hard profession.”  Before I turned to go into the house for more stuff, I wished the young man good luck and waved good bye.  I wondered if I ever do that … answer for my children.  I’m sure I do.

My favorite couple that day were two artists from Queens, Long Island City.  He was a metal artists and she was a sculptor.  They came for the flat files with their station wagon.  When you look up “NYC artists” in the dictionary their faces are there.  A little scruffy, hip and skinny.  She went to Cranbrook and was a strong as an ox.  I guess lifting stone will do that to a girl.  They came for the flat files but left with a whole car load.  They were very sweet in how each item they took the other talked about why it would be good for them. 

Her:  “These flat files will be so good for your shop drawings and those other drawings you are doing.”
Him:  “Take that cart, it will help you organize your tools.”
Her:  “This lamp will work in your studio.”
Him:  “Go ahead and take some books, we have the space.” 

I was struck by that point.  When you are young you have the space.  I am past that point.  I don’t want any more space and I am getting more selective about what goes in the space I have.   

By the end of that Saturday I was encouraged.  Things were moving.  Every single item was gone by Sunday morning, every paint brush, caulking gun, and jar of misc. screws. 

That is when we found a half-a-bag of sand and a half-a-bag of cement stuck in the corner of the garage.  The designer / horticulturalist who installed our garden in the Spring had left them.  Craig was cranky that he would need to take them to the recycling center and haul them around in his car.  I decided to post them instead.  Craig was convinced that no one would drive here just for a half-a-bag of sand and a half-a-bag of cement.  I was a little tired from answering e-mails from people wanting to know which back issues of Wallpaper I had and if the lamps had working lightbulbs.  So my Sunday morning post read:

“Curb Alert:  Half-a-bag of sand.  Half-a-bag of cement.  Do not call.  Do not e-mail.  Do not ask me any questions about masonry.  Do not ask me what brand of sand.  Do not ask me how to make concrete.  Clearly, if I knew anything about masonry I wouldn’t be giving this away.  Come on Sunday morning for Curb Alert and it is yours for free. “

When I got home at lunchtime both bags were gone.  What had started with the humidor ended with creating some space in our lives. 

Then, I did a little Cha Cha by myself in the garage.