Everyone who's ever bought a swimsuit or an American car knows the feeling of buyer's remorse. Lately, though, I've run across its opposite: seller's remorse.
Here's a little dog I shipped off yesterday--glad to have the sale, of course, but as I bubble wrapped him him, I remembered buying him, more than 15 years ago, in a little place called the In and Out Shop that was simply crammed with junk like this (if it was still open, I'd make a fortune). I felt kind of sad to see him go, but he spent the past ten years in a box in the basement, so I must not have needed him that badly.
I've had similar bittersweet reactions when I've sold my jewelry, even though, for God's sake, I'm making it to sell! Here's one of the brooches I made out of antique buttons, and the first sale from my Etsy shop. I was thrilled with the sale, a week or so after I opened shop, but so sad to see this button go, with its fun textures and buttery yellow.
This reluctance to let go of things is not peculiar to Americans, but we undoubtedly suffer from it more than many nations. Our closets are crammed, our basements stacked, and if we do manage to let go of anything, it is with some regret. The upside of this anal retentive impulse is that I have boxes and boxes of old junk that may turn out to be craft worthy. The downside is that I have boxes and boxes of old junk.