As it so happens, I am a creative genius. I’m so clever that I created a personal museum in our second bedroom. I think it’s fantastic that I can display my history of uncontrolled spending and past fancies in a stationary pile of shoes, handbags and clothes.
My partner on the other hand, doesn’t think this is so special. The kibosh was laid down on any new additions to my collection and I’m forced to either salvage or sell what lies behind the ever closed door of the first room on the right. So, since much of the anthology is displayed still with descriptive labelling (yea that’s right, price tags) to eBay I shall go!
I got myself all sorted, created a new file folder on the pc to house my e-commerce venture, learned about postage costs and how to exclude types of buyers (ie, how to be overtly discriminatory in my selling a la Pretty Woman) and got cracking.
I set up a mini photo studio in the kitchen consisting of some old sheet I found and a chair and completely ignored everything my partner said to me for about 24 hours straight while I became absolutely obsessed with writing the lengthiest, possibly most inconsequential descriptions for each item. Then I told him I was going to sell his car and his wallet.
The most fun is in writing verbose descriptions. Without being false, I can title a fake crocodile skin handbag, faux dinosaur. And I can describe an external pocket as handy for blackmail opportunities because its so easy to access without being obvious. Or that in inside pocket has unsurpassed loyalty, the zip is so good it will never kiss and tell.
Furthermore I can bring personality to inanimate objects by telling potential buyers that a clutch purse is really keen on spending a night or two with the buyer and that it won’t hesitate to take her out for breakfast in the morning. That a particular handbag is ideal for the girl who likes to carry a voodoo doll with her, because this one is big enough to also hold a spare.
Considering the popularity of this blog, I’m sure my eBay descriptions will do little to bring me extra pocket money. At least I’ve discovered a new outlet for my heralded creative genius (yes italicised, the cookie said it was so). At the very least if none of it sells, the local Salvos store gets dibs on it and the spare room gets emptied for what ever diabolical plans my partner has for it.
Lucky Numbers:
2, 11, 32, 35, 36, 40
2 – rooms in our house
11 – nice gams, dollface
32 – times I’ve been asked to sort out my accumulation
How did you know that, fortune cookie? 