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Coda to the crappy Thanksgiving

Illustration for article titled Coda to the crappy Thanksgiving

At one point, my husband went out with his mother to get something from her car. She'd brought down his baseball card collection, apparently. I was cooking, so wasn't paying much attention.


That evening, we go out to the truck, and after opening the door to get in, I stop dead.

The back of our truck is FILLED with tubs.

We do not own a 4-door sedan. We own an SUV. I can seat eight adults comfortably in our car. We have moved couches in it. Now, all the seats are down and there are huge Rubbermaid tubs filling the back of the truck.


"What am I seeing here?"

"Oh, that's, um, my collectable card collection..."

I thought it was one bin, max. I mean, his mother wasn't a woman of means when he was a kid. How many could she have bought him? But apparently, this was one of those places where she indulged him. She then saved them for him so that he could cash them in one day.


Yeah, about that. The whole way back to the hotel, I googled to see what the market was for sports cards. It's shit. The only people who care about it are older dudes, and many of them are short on cash. Even collectors won't buy collections as a whole. They only buy one or two specific cards, meaning 98% of what he owns is useless, and we have to hunt for the things that are worth something.

His mother is excited, eager to hear about the tens of thousands of dollars that we're going to make off of the cards. I have no clue where we're going to put them, and I'm tempted to tell him to take them directly to the fucking dump.


I've brought it up a few times, but he's hedged around the topic. He knows he won't get anything for them at this point, but doesn't want to tell his mother that she wasted her time storing them for twenty-five years, then loading them up and driving them 700 miles.

GTer's, what do you think a reasonable amount of time would be before I simply toss them myself? Because I'm willing to give him a month, max.

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