I've always been a yard sale junky, but estate sales take everything I love about them ten steps further. It's as if someone has said, "Hey, you don't see anything you want at my yard sale? C'mon inside. EVERYTHING is for sale. Cheap."
Yes, there is the depressing realization that the person who once owned all of this stuff is probably dead now. And that their family doesn't feel like dealing with their possessions so they've hired a group of people to sell it all for them (and make a decent cut I'd guess). BUT, it doesn't depress me enough not to attend. It's 8:30am and my adrenaline is pumping! Coffee doesn't even have that affect on me! I'm so hooked.
I'm also pretty in love with the idea of being able to peak inside a complete stranger's entire life. . . see remnants of their hobbies and collections . . . their taste (or lack of) in furniture and art. When else do we get to do that (other than in a book or movie)? What I take away from the sale will get a new life with me. . . and maybe someday with someone else.