Confessions of a dump diver: I was helping to rid the community of junky eyesores
Several years ago, I stumbled upon a new hobby that had the potential to provide a small revenue stream.
I discovered some messy places around town on curbs and in abandoned areas. I figured they were impromptu dump sites, created when someone throws household cast-offs out the window.
At the first trash heap, I spotted a wooden sleigh bed headboard. Free is good and this one looked pretty nice, at first glance.
Turns out the headboard had a slight imperfection — a small hole that someone had punched into it. I cleaned up the headboard, hot glued two plastic fleur-de-lis on it for decoration (one to cover the opening) and added a price tag.
The headboard sold at the flea market for $50.
These random sites don’t seem to be affiliated with the city-sanctioned dump that’s served by trucks sporting a city logo. By the way, I’ve learned there’s a fee to dump stuff at the official site, and you must produce a current city water bill. No wonder folks want to dump for free.
For a time, my mission became to gather up abandoned, dumped free stuff and make a sale at the flea market.
I traveled along rocky, roadside gullies, looked underneath fallen dead tree trunks and squeezed between side-by-side unoccupied, dilapidated buildings. These searches were successful.
It's sad, but people in the community seem to perpetuate free, unauthorized dumping because they have no money for legitimate dump fees, plus zero regard for community aesthetics. I was helping to rid the community of junky eyesores.
These adventures were very satisfying — when the pickin’ was good. Here’s a sample of stuff snagged in the freebie market and, later, sold.
A piece of chicken wire folded in half with an attached wire snap closure. A purse.
Toddler clothes and toddler tennis shoes. Practically new.
Books of custom drapery swatches and wallpaper samples. Very contemporary for today’s home.
Over time, however, the excitement of trolling for free stuff began to diminish. Also, it became apparent the good quality free trash was becoming scarce.
I needed to change my modus operandi and feed my habit another way ― switching to garage sales. At least garage sales offered a chance to buy stuff for pennies on the dollar.
Who knew? Turns out there’s free stuff at some garage sales. In the free piles I scored an empty gasoline can; a copper hammered picture frame; an OSU picture frame; and a metal file cabinet. All sold.
For a time, garage sales worked, but even this adventure became boring. How about trying my luck at flea market dollar tables or thrift stores?
As with most hobbies, I soon lost interest in bargain hunting in these stores, as well.
It must come down to my inherent case of ADHD, which was never diagnosed in my younger days.
I’m moving in a different direction now, again. I’m trying to inventory all the free junk and penny bargains stowed in the garage to determine what stays and what goes. It’s clear that no one in the family cares one whit about this junk and I don’t either, anymore.
The solution? Host my own garage sale and get rid of the many items I once could not live without. Everything can go into one pile with a sign that reads, “Free.”
Andrea Chancellor has more than 20 years in newspaper and magazine journalism and 20 years in public relations.
This article originally appeared on Oklahoman: Dump diver confessions: I was helping to rid the community of eyesores
