GENRE: Women's Fiction
I was going to be a millionaire—if I wasn’t crushed to death first.
The Leaning Tower of Pisa was nothing compared to the towers in my spare bedroom, or any room for that matter. Mounds of boxes, each rising several feet high, to graze the ceiling, overshadowed and surrounded me. Shoved haphazardly or stacked methodically, Bankers boxes, beer and banana boxes filled my vision and my house. Tiny shoeboxes didn’t even begin to cut it. Letting out a sigh, I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead and lowered yet another box.
Determined this would be the box containing the treasure I searched for, I tore it open and scrutinized its contents.
Earlier that day, the topic on Abigail in the Afternoon was how to become rich by selling your stuff. I certainly had the stuff: items flowed from my closets, rooms, hallways, filled my cabinets, drawers and covered my furniture. Abigail’s guest, an expert on making cash from trash, talked about rare finds and mentioned a particular treasure. My memory clicked. Somewhere in that mountain of boxes was my very own stash of cash: a rare Little Kimmy doll. This was a good example of why I never threw anything out. It was precisely as my dad said, “Why toss what I already have only to spend more money re-buying the same item later?” My belongings were like investments. Everything had worth and was needed, eventually. All I needed was to cash in one or two rare items to be set for life.