Lest I give one the impression franksolich is a sucker, I must remind that I've usually been fully aware of the market price or value of things.
But at times money has been the least of my concerns.
In the case of the older brother, who died when he was 40 (I was of course considerably younger, in my mid-20s), I was under a tight deadline. His sudden death had been a shock enough, and for some reason the attorney told me to clear out his stuff within three weeks (so that the residence could be sold).
There was s-o-o-o-o-o-o much stuff.
One night during this time I mentioned to a friend that I was going to call a junk-dealer to haul out the nine-piece bedroom set, allegedly hand-made in Vermont, solid wood, which was less than a year old. The friend intervened, and contacted someone else instead, and the estate got $6,000 for that stack of wood.
But this friend, even though a good friend, never seemed to understand; I was far more interested in getting rid of these things, as instructed, than in getting a "good" price for them.
If I got no use for something, I don't want to deal with it; I want it out of the way.