I have just had my first and possibly last encounter with Facebook Marketplace.
A little
background for you: My friend Jessi and I used to be the queens of free
furniture. For real. She has an
eagle-eye for free stuff left at curbs, and she has an amazing talent for
refinishing things. Once on the way to the beach, we encountered a lawn sign
that said “FREE,” so we banged a u-ey (that’s New England speak for “turning
around”) and perused. We didn’t come out with anything, but we were
Johnny-on-the-spot, just the same.
In other words, if something says “FREE,” don’t waste time texting, calling, or knocking on doors. There’s no haggling with “free.” You get there first and you take it. That’s how gold medals are won in the sport of freebies.
I’m moving.
Downsizing again, and this could be a good thing or a bad thing. I have some
furniture that I’m willing to part with, but one piece, a futon, just won’t
make it down the curved stairs, so I take it apart and will be putting it into
the dumpster later.
However, a
black storage ottoman in decent shape and an old wooden desk that needs a paint
job are FREE. I put them on the curb, BUT then I have a panic attack. It’s
supposed to snow overnight. I can’t haul those things back into my house. I’ve
already mentally and physically parted with them.
So, I do
what any other blithering idiot would do: I post them for FREE on Facebook
Marketplace.
I put in the
description some quick information about the shape they’re in, and where to
pick them up … at the curb. Any mentally capable person would figure out that
FREE + ADDRESS WITH MAP means the green flag has been waved. Start your
engines. The race is on. First come, first served.
But, no. No,
no, no. The texts start coming in. What does the desk look like? (It looks like
the two pictures I posted and the description.) Does the ottoman work? (I don’t
know. I posted a picture of it shut and open. What the hell do YOU think?) Can
you hold it for me? (No. It’s frigging FREE. FREE. Come and GET it. It’s
FREEEEEEEEEEEE.)
The ottoman went within ninety minutes. The desk, which I thought would go first and am still having second thoughts about letting go, is still there. Oh, there have been tons of inquiries and several “I’ll be riiiiiiight there” messages. Poor baby. The desk is still sitting out there at the curb, looking dejected. I’ve had that desk, my first “big girl” furniture, since I was seven years old. It breaks my heart to see it left behind like that. I’ve written some amazing stories and done massive amounts of homework from that desk. All last spring I taught school during remote learning from that desk. It’s a good desk, a decent desk, a desk that has been loved and cherished.
Oh, well. I
hope it goes to a good home and not into the dumpster. I don’t have any great
love for the dumpster-slated futon, but it would truly bust my gut to have to
put the desk into the metal receptacle.
