I have sold more things.
You would think I would be running out of things by now, but my propensity to hoard has stood me in good stead for this time of crisis, and things are selling, and there are more things to sell.
This is very good. The things I am selling (since someone has asked me), are many and varied, but mostly pottery and clothes and shoes because that’s mostly what I have.
Up until now all money earned has been for sensible things like bills and food and stuff. We were also going to take the children to Germany for four days in the Easter holidays. Then we priced it up. Then we decided that we wouldn’t as we needed to pay bills and eat food and stuff.
Then this evening, when I was very tired and feeling frivolous (for it is nearly my birthday after all), I bought two Moomin posters and an Edward Gorey ballet poster with some of my EBay money. This is very bad, and yet very good. I must not succumb to anything else until considerably more bills have been paid.
Which is a shame, as my picture obsession is taking over neatly where my ceramics obsession left off. Although to be fair, if you were to see the number of pictures I’ve managed to shoe horn onto the walls of this house you will know that the picture obsession has been flourishing quite nicely anyway. I still cannot afford Sam Taylor Wood. I still cannot afford Anthony Gormley sketches. I am currently nurturing the delusion that I might one day own a Simon Palmer print, and I am pretty delighted by Eric Ravilious and Edward Bawden, but I am, as is my wont, only really drawn to the stuff I cannot afford. In the meantime I comb charity shops in the hope of finding something I love, or something I can sell to buy the things I love, and pay all the bills and for food and stuff.
I have listed more things on EBay, who love me very much at the moment for being so busy and giving them so much of my money, and will continue listing things, in the hope that the balance stays on the right side of things and does not tempt me into darkness once more.
I have bought plants for the garden. This is good and allowed. We have nearly finished planting but we still have climbers to put in to make our shady bowers tra la. I took Grandad with me on pensioner’s Tuesday to the garden centre and shamelessly pinched his discount to buy white jasmine and climbing roses and lots of clematis. Tomorrow will be spent blistering my hands digging them in.
I have haunted the post office once more in my bid to piss off as many pensioners as possible. It’s easy with grandad. I just steal his garden centre discount. With other, random pensioners I have to take fourteen parcels to the post office and monopolise the one person behind the counter to make the elderly people tut and suck their teeth and make them wait in the queue for twenty minutes just to buy a stamp. It is my forte.
I have shouted at the children. The little children. They hate each other at the moment. They only have to breathe funny in each other’s presence to try decapitating each other, if not with deeds then with words. There are two good things about me shouting at them. Firstly, it stops me killing them. Secondly it means they can drop their enmity for each other to unite in hatred of me. Thus learning how to bond with each other. It may come in handy in future.
I have done all the awful Tuesday chores. And managed to squeeze in lunch with my dad and brother, to say thanks for the garden centre discount, and hello to Uncle Robber who had the day off of work and lucked out by being in our general vicinity when lunch was in the offing.
My main achievement of the day however, was the fact that I did not have to go to the dentist once.
Go me. And my teeth.