Thursday, October 24, 2013

“Congratulations,” said Cheshire, when I explained to her my new philosophy on productivity from Tuesday’s screed. “You’ve turned into a single mom.” It wasn’t precisely what I was expecting, but then again, you never know where you’ll find life’s little flashes of wisdom, right? I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I was trying to be inspirational just now, until a deep nausea overtook me. This nausea lead to an increase in bile, fortunately, which effectively restored my equilibrium.

I only have two windows open tonight–this one and eBay. The Professor was explaining to me, a few weeks ago, about how our possessions are proxies for stages of our lives. It seems like a no-brainer, especially as the distance between stages widens. I wouldn’t even dream of playing with the Legos my six-year-old self valued, for instance. There’s just no appeal there, you know? But what’s particularly striking to me is how this same nonchalance applies to things I purchased in my mid-twenties, when I was a fully cognizant adult. Back then, I dug DVDs and procured hundreds of them. Now, I’m selling ’em by the pound without a second look.

I’ve got a system down. Group my wares in themed lots of 50 to 100. Take photos. Knock out some copy. List for seven days, pack as soon as a lot gets a single bid, and then it’s off to the UPS Store, once payment clears. It’s unbelievably freeing, whenever I unload my car. Bit by bit, listing by listing, I feel like I’m punching through strata from another life. And when I finally arrive at where I want to be, the person I want to be? That’s when we’ll turn this site around and start ladling on some real Chicken Soup for the Soul shit.