My (Current Obsession) Confession

So…… I apparently have an issue with small obsessions.  I get obsessed learning about something new, and pour myself into it. Sometimes it’s a hobby (photography).  Sometimes a subject (home birth). Sometimes a creative project (photo blogging my pregnancy with Jax).  Sometimes it’s free (cooking, well besides the cost of food).  Sometimes it’s expensive (Crocs shoes).

I get attached to whatever my newest thing is, go crazy about it for a few months, and move on to the next obsession.

My confession is that the current obsession is baby carriers, and they can be expensive.  I’ve been buying.  And selling.  And trading.  I’m at a point where the energy of the obsession is dying down.  So now I’m mainly selling off things I bought that aren’t working for me.  And trying not to buy anything new.

I haven’t wanted to talk about this on my blog, because I know some people will criticize or judge me for spending so much money.  Or wearing my toddler instead of letting him walk.  Or whatever.  Everyone has hobbies.  Everyone has their areas of weakness for spending money.  The good news is so far I’ve been able to sell what I’ve purchased for within $10 or so or what I paid for it.  That’s not much of a loss for a hobby.

When I prepare to sell a carrier, I do so with a mix of my other hobbies / obsessions: fashion and photography.

I take photos with my super awesome camera (on tripod, using remote).  I have two remotes now, because Jax always wants to hold one.  He says, “Thank you,” when he wants something.  His, “Thank you” means, “I want to have that right now.”  When I’m holding the remote and taking photos, he says, “Ish ooh! Ish ooh! Ish ooh!” over and over like a broken record until I hand him the remote. So now we have two remotes. One for me; one for Jax.

When we take the photos of the baby carrier I’m selling, I dress Jax and I up in matching outfits, that also coordinate with the colors of the baby carrier or wrap.  I fix my face and my hair, because if we’ve learned anything from the billboards and magazine covers, it’s that looking good sells stuff.

So then, I have this baby carrier I’m trying to sell. And I have gorgeous photos of me and my adorable son wearing said baby carrier.  And then I don’t want to sell it, because we look so good in it.  But I do sell it, because I can’t keep them all, and I’ve determined not to be the person who owns 200 wraps (believe me, they are out there, and I’m not judging, I’m just saying).

I’ve talked with Benjamin about this new obsession, and I described it this way.

It’s like you’ve never worn shoes in your entire life.  You’re a grown adult, never worn shoes.  Someone takes pity on you, and gives you a pair of sneakers.  Walmart brand, white sneakers.  You are amazed.  Your feet don’t burn when it’s 100 degrees outside in Texas and the asphalt is radiating like an electric stove top.  You can walk through burrs and drought-dried grass without being stabbed.  It is heaven.  You wear your sneakers everywhere.

You are allowed into places were previously you were banned by the “no shirt no shoes no service” rule.  And when you go to those places, you see other people.  Other people wearing shoes.  And you realize, wow, there are so many different shoes out there!  I had no idea!

So you save up your pennies and buy a pair of flip flops. The cheap plastic ones from Old Navy.  And you are amazed.  Your feet, no longer sweaty and sticky!  Supported but not suffocated.  It is heaven.

This journey continues, slowly, as you eagerly investigate the world of shoes.  Soon you discover water shoes for wading in Texas streams, high heels for fancy events, and simple flats for church.  The world slowly unfolds into brands, prices, fabrics, textures, and colors.

So can you own just one pair of shoes?  How about two?  How about ten?  At what point do you own a sufficient variety of shoes to adequately cover the gamut of life events, weather demands, and outfit coordination needs?  Were you better off with bare feet?  Were you better off before you discovered shoes existed?

So here I am.

I started my baby wearing journey sixteen months ago with a grey Moby Wrap and an ErgoBaby soft structured carrier in galaxy grey.

I haven’t counted how many carriers I own at the moment.  It’s less than 20.  They’re not all staying here.  Many are going back out and three are currently up for sale.

But I’m going to share them here.  Judge if you must.  But I hope you won’t throw the first stone unless you’ve never had some kind of obsession either.  And if you haven’t ever had an obsession, well, I hope one day you do.  They’re fun.

I will share carriers I’m selling, and what I thought of them.  I will share carriers I own, and why I love them.  I will share the photos we take, and I will take photos of the ones I’m keeping and not just the ones I’m selling.

It’s my current obsession, so I can stay silent, or I can share.

My next obsession needs to be free.  Any ideas?

Oh, and I would be so so happy if I could somehow get more people into baby wearing.  Not to spend money on wraps, but to have babies close and cuddly.  But my theories about baby wearing are for another post.


Did you know that glass wine bottles (or glass sparkling grape fruit juice bottles…or whatever glass bottles that size and shape), are awesome for putting in your tall winter boots? It keeps them standing up straight, which makes for easier storage in your closet (instead of boots falling over the place), and preserves their life span by not having them fold over on themselves and get damaged that way.  The downside is they last longer so you don’t have a pressing need to buy new ones.

When I found this out, I immediately went to our fridge to look for bottles.

Which leads me to the story of why we have an exorbitant amount of hard liquor in our fridge.

Benjamin used to work for a liquor distributor in San Antonio who shall remain nameless due to ensuing details. He was in the computer tech area.  Periodically, he would work really hard on a project, and impress someone with access to the warehouse.  Or he would clean massive amounts of pornography from an executive’s WORK MACHINE, and be given access to the warehouse to keep things on the down low.  If he could have reported the executive, he would have.  But said executive might have been the person in charge of the whole company.  (Or might not).

So when he would impress someone, or go above and beyond, he would often be given a bottle of alcohol that couldn’t be distributed for some reason or another.  Perhaps it was expired, or just not popular, or the wrong shipment was ordered, or couldn’t be delivered, or any number of reasons why the company had a stash of liquor that it could not distribute.  In the approximate year Benjamin worked there, we acquired about four bottles of rum, four bottles of vodka, a large bottle of Jack Daniels, a bunch of single-serving size of various liquors, some Limoncello, about eight bottles of wine, and I don’t even remember what else.

But we don’t drink.  Or we hardly ever drink.  I haven’t had a sip of alcohol since being pregnant or breast feeding.  In the years preceding, I had one glass of something sweet and fruity on a special occasion approximately four or five times a year.

We’ve managed to use up all the wine, either for cooking, or for taking to parties where friends would help finish it off.  I remember one Thanksgiving with friends bringing a red wine called Knarly Vine (or something like that), which the friends particularly enjoyed.

But the hard liquor is still in our fridge five years later.

You can’t sell liquor without a license.  And we don’t really have friends who drink.  If I gave it away, I would be afraid perhaps it was used by an alcoholic, or got someone in a car wreck, or whatever.  If I couldn’t sell it, and couldn’t give it away, I also couldn’t bring myself to just pour down the drain that much MONEY.

But then I read about the wine bottles for boots.

So I opened the fridge, and took a hard look at the door-full of liquor.

And took a deep breath and dumped two huge bottles of rum down the drain.

Because I hate rum.

The vodka?  I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  There’s a half bottle of raspberry vodka, which we did use once to make berry daiquiris (about four years ago). And a full bottle of Grey Goose Pear.  When I did used to have a period mixed drink, it was usually something involving vodka.  So I just couldn’t do it.  Maybe in ten years when I’m done birthing and nursing babies, I’ll be ready to dust off the bottles and have some friends over for pear-berry daiquiris.

In the mean time, the two empty bottles of rum did wonders to my leather boots.

In my shorter casual boots, I put still-sealed water bottles of Aquafina, which were a better size (and not fragile).

Except Jax likes to play with water bottles (wonderful crunching sound when squished between pudgy fingers), so now the floor of my closet is full of floppy boots AND a bunch of water bottles rolling around   (the glass bottles and leather boots being safely confined to a high shelf).  I’m not sure if I’m really better off.

When we wore this outfit last week, the first thing that came to mind was the word Limoncello.

And thus, this lengthy explanation of our apparent drinking problem, which is really an indecision problem.

If you come over and look in our fridge, don’t judge.

And if you come over and look in my closet at massive empty bottles of rum, don’t judge that either.  We didn’t drink it.

All Things Neon (including some that is very, very bad)

This outfit is new.  The shorts (which I also bought in yellow) are already on clearance at Old Navy for $5. They move stuff through so fast, if it’s not on sale or clearance, wait two weeks. Then go back and buy it.  And don’t wait any longer ’cause if it’s been a month, it will already have moved from new arrival to clearance rack to GONE.

The bear is in the first photo because he has suddenly become excessively happy upon seeing the face of this bear.  He woke up not too long before we took these photos, and I somehow carried it outside with us.  It was the one stuffed animal given to us at baby showers that I didn’t want to part with; it was just too cute.  Both Benjamin and I have stuffed animals and dolls in storage that we want to share with our kids, so we didn’t want to collect too many more than what we already have waiting.  But this one?  I couldn’t give it away.  And what do you know, he loves it.

So. Let’s talk neon.

Neon was last in fashion approximately fifteen to twenty years ago.  They’re doing a bit better job this time around though.  When I started seeing all this grunge, spray paint, tie dye, neon stuff coming back in the malls (a couple years ago), I could only think of a 1995 Christian movie called Hi-Tops where the teens were dressed in the most ridiculous “cool” late ’80’s / early ’90’s fashion the producers could locate.  They were gonna make these teens look “cool” so their movie would also be “cool.”  (If memory serves, the message of the movie did impact me at the time, but I can’t seem to recall it now.  However, I will never forget it’s fashion.  Isn’t that terrible?).

This image is not from the movie (the film wasn’t even popular enough to make it on IMDB, but I did find it on Wikipedia).  But this is the kind of neon-grunge fashion that I’m praying for all goodness sakes NEVER COMES BACK.  Why these people thought they looked decent enough to have their photo taken is BEYOND ME.  Although the tag explains it all: SoCal Surf Wear.  Of course, in “SoCal,” they wore balloon crotchtacular pajama pants and tucked-in windbreakers and white high-top tennis and crimped mullets to SURF IN.  DUH.

Image from here.  No idea where to give original credit.

Although I should watch my words.  Twenty years from now someone might be shielding their fashion-conscious eyes from my get-up today.  Neon and pearls?  Shudder.

HERS | Tank Old Navy | Shorts Old Navy | Necklace, gift, real pearls | Shoes Crocs Adrina Flip

HIS | Polo/Onesie | Shorts Circo

| Filed under fashion, sarcastically humorous

Anniversary Camping Adventures

Every year in October, we go camping to celebrate our anniversary. Our lives are always full, and too often hectic. Our bedroom has at least 20 different LED lights that stay on all night from various machines and gadgets. We grasp a bit too tightly to the internet and our cell-phone data plan. But when we camp, we unplug. We are out in nature with no schedule and no electricity. Love.

The first year (2003) we camped at Sam Houston State Park. There were only five campsites in the whole place, and we were the only campers. We should have known. We bought our tiny tent the day before we camped. It rained. Excuse me, it poured. And we didn’t know brand spanking new tents need to be waterproofed. Or else they leak. Therefore it rained IN our tent. All night.

The single outhouse in the campground was a tad neglected; the showers were outdoor stalls on a concrete pad. And you had to hike to get to them. So you could be sweaty and dirty by the time you got back from showering. I forgot to pack us two sets of toiletries, so we only had one bottle of shampoo and soap. We decided to shower together on the guys’ side, because we figured a woman discovering a man in the women’s showers would freak out and report us to the authorities, whereas a man seeing a woman in the guy’s side would just go, “Hey, nice,” and then Benjamin would beat him up. Thankfully since the soggy campground AND showers were empty, Benjamin got to save his fists for some other day.

We don’t have any pictures from that trip, because as an anniversary present, I gave Benjamin our first digital camera.  It was a $50 keychain digital camera from Brookstone.  And all the pictures got erased the minute we plugged it into the computer at home.  Why does that not surprise me.  So, here’s us two years later, in 2005, when we bought a point&shoot camera and took lots of pictures.

Since the first Houston camping trip, we’ve lived in San Antonio and camped at Garner State Park. For a couple years while I worked at Six Flags Fiesta Texas, I had weekdays off instead of weekends, so we camped Monday through Wednesday. The amazingly beautiful park, we would have almost to ourselves.

Garner has nearly 400 campsites, three stores, sand volleyball, basketball, tons of hiking and biking trails, and a gorgeous fresh, clear river with natural water slides and swinging ropes. And sparkly clean bathrooms. And the weather is usually amazing.  Here’s us hiking at Garner in 2007.

However, two years ago (2008), it rained the entire weekend. Non. Stop. While our tent no longer leaked, it was too cramped to hang out inside for very long. So we huddled under our tarp in 50-something degrees, shivering and damp.

And Benjamin stared at bugs in our dishpan.

When the cold, wet, bug-staring got old, we hung out in the car. But it’s not very exciting to be stuck in your car. Especially when it’s not going anywhere. So we went home and the next day, when we were supposed to still be camping, we went to Natural Bridge Caverns. That was a fun, dry adventure.  Okay, so the below picture was actually taken at Garner for the hour the sun came out.  It wasn’t warm enough to swim.  We just got in our swim trunks and stared at the water and wished.  And climbed on a warm rock to take a picture.

Last year (2009), we went to Garner without realizing it was a holiday weekend. I’m used to stock market holidays, but Columbus Day is just a school holiday. So the park was crowded because of the holiday weekend. And because of the giant multi-city girl scout troop camping that weekend. And because of the south-Texas cycling summit held at the park where all the roads are closed or full of cyclists and all their families are camping at Garner. So the park wasn’t crowded at all. It was completely sold out. And we didn’t have reservations. We moved campsites EVERY DAY trying to find one that wasn’t reserved, didn’t have a drunken bash going on till three in the morning, and wasn’t smack in the middle of a hundred girl scouts screaming and giggling by five a.m.

It wasn’t traumatic. At all.  Oh yes, and we forgot the camera.

So this year, we covered all our bases. Reservations. Perfect weather forecast. No scout trips or cycling tours. No holiday weekend. Camera. And then we still waited in line to get a camping spot from 8pm to 10:30pm. Two and a half hours. We were told their new reservation system is slow. Um, yeah.

Okay, but enough with the sarcasm, because we really seriously do have an awesome time every year. The drama is part of the adventure. Or so my husband reminds me twenty times a day when I am having minor meltdowns.

This year the only imperfection was that it was too short. The weather was ideal (80 during the day, 60 at night). Our campsite was shady and quiet (well okay, so I did wake up at 2am to the Mexican Mafia two campsites down singing Native American war cries at the top of their lungs, but my trusty ear plugs stomped that out real fast). Best of all, we relaxed.

In the morning, it was cool and we cooked omelettes and drank steaming coffee while wearing sweatshirts. By midday, we were sweating in the hot sun, then splashing in the river and trying to catch inch-long minnows in an 8 oz Aquafina bottle. (It worked. We finally got one after an hour of patient waiting. Well, I was patiently waiting, holding the bottle between my feet because the minnows liked to taste my feet, and I figured eventually one of them would come taste my feet and accidentally end up in the bottle between my feet, which is exactly what happened). Benjamin napped on the warm rocks with his feet in the cool water. Sounds nice, huh? When I finally caught one, I shook Benjamin awake, and exultingly held the bottle up to him. He took one look at the minnow darting around, running into the walls of the bottle, and said, “Oh, poor thing, it’s scared. Let it go.” Seriously?! I gave it to the little girl downstream instead.)  I’m sort of cheating on the picture here; it’s from 2005. But Benjamin’s hand and the minnows still look exactly the same, I promise.

Then we came back to the campsite and napped in our giant hammock. And when it got chilly, we started a bonfire and ate blackened burgers with a side of flaming marshmallows. When we started fearing our Crocs would melt from how close our feet were getting to the warm flames, we cuddled up on the air mattress in our tent and were happy.  This photo is also from 2005, and taken with a point&shoot camera, but it’s a good representation of how we spend our nights when we camp, no matter what year it is.

When it all ended the next day, we sighed over the beautiful weather, our cozy campsite (neighbors moved out), our comforting hammock, being totally unplugged and completely at ease. And we took this picture and went home.

Can’t wait till next year.

Email Urban Legends

There are few things that get under my skin more than emailed urban legends. Almost all of them are false. I feel we have a responsibility to do a bit of research before emailing articles that could turn out to be a hoax or worse, a virus. My favorite website to check this stuff out: They do the research and post the results.

I’ve lost several friendships to date after I get sent some of this junk, and I click “respond to all” with a link proving the forward false. Call me crazy, but if a friend can’t handle the truth, and wouldn’t want all the people they forwarded the lies to, to also be aware of the truth, they’re not much of a friend.

Today, though, sent me over the edge. I get an email urban legend – at work – forwarded by our regional manager.  He must be intelligent, to have survived four rounds of blood-bath style middle-management purges thanks to the over-leveraging of our company by other intelligent directors and CEOs.  But I digress. 

This particular email is a scare tactic about how you must put your cell phone number into the National Do Not Call list because otherwise your cell number will be released to telemarkers by the end of the month.

My asst branch manager received it from the region, and forwarded it on to our office.  I clicked “respond”, and pleasantly informed her that despite the email’s seemingly reliable source (our regional manager), this is merely urban legend. She responds cryptically, “Well, it came from the region, so I’m just doing my job to forward it on to everyone else.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. If all middle management shuts down their brains on the job like this, then I’d say the aforesaid blood-bath was justified.

I’d really like to choke somebody. It’s not the pot-smoking unemployed high-school dropout who created the email. I don’t expect much from him. It’s everyone with a legitimate full time job, a college education, and some of their brain left that hasn’t been destroyed by dope and tv, who keeps this stuff going and going and going! It’s the Energizer Bunny of idiocy. And when upper management participates, adding an official name/title/firm footer to this stuff, there’s no end to the madness!

And to make matters completely incomprehensible, middle management, when given facts disputing this craziness, won’t even consider going back to pick up their brain just for a moment. Now I really really really want to choke someone. The world really is going to hell in a handbasket. Oh, hold up, I gotta run, that’s a great phrase to use in my newest email…..hell in a handbasket….now how can I work this into a palatable bite for corporate America? Senator Sanford, Bernie Madoff, Raj Rajaratnam‎ – any ideas?

I have to put this into context for you. I work for a global financial firm with over 300,000 employees and 6,000 offices worldwide. The regional director in question likely makes six digits, and supervises 10 branches in 3 cities, with 500 employees. Yet despite this, he lacks sufficient brain power to recognize an urban legend. There clearly is nothing his Ivy League education, paycheck size, or decades of corroboration with other equally brainy men around long marble tables could do to initiate the common-sense portion of his brain. He probably sends money to Nigeria too.

Urban Legend Emails have tell-tale warning signs. In this email, here is a sampling:

“By the end of this month!” (with no specific date mentioned),
“You will be charged!”,
“Help others pass this on!”,
“It only takes 20 seconds!”,
incorrect grammar,
false information,
plenty of <>
and the big giveaway, the blue “bar” next to the text that denotes forwarded text.

If someone gives you legitimate, helpful information, do they usually make it sound like a desperate pitch from a balding car salesman with twelve kids who’s about to get fired if he doesn’t sell you a brand spanking new hot pink Hummer when you came shopping for a five-year old used Civic?

Since my regional director clearly checks his brain at the doorstep of his office when he walks in this morning, he misses these warning signs. Instead, he forwards the email to his sub-managers, who forward it to their operations managers (one in each branch), who forward it to everyone in their respective offices, including ours.

Within minutes, I overhear one of my co-workers calling a high-net worth client to “walk them through” setting up their cell phone with Do Not Call.  Yup.  Hopefully the millionaire she’s calling can manage to drag their brain into the conversation, so someone, somehow, can stop the madness.

| Filed under sarcastically humorous

How My Husband’s Palm TungstenE Came to Be Listed on Ebay

INTRODUCTION: I was selling an old Palm Pilot on Ebay and apparently made an error in the listing, because I got this disgruntled memo from another Ebayer:

“Dear joyello2002, How can you claim this item is NEW? Your description indicates that it has been USED!!! – rmac_scinut”

Alarmed, I visited my listing to find that indeed, a tiny checkbox had slipped past my watchful eye when I posted the original listing. So I cancelled the listing, and re-posted in on Ebay with the correct information.

However, the nasty accusation of rmac_scinut prompted me to wonder why I was suddenly being thought of as either an idiot or a sneaky SOB trying to rip people off. After perusing several inspiring Ebay postings which morph into blogs that people actually enjoy reading, I decided to create my own, both as an explantion of what happened with the listing, and a way to appropriately vent my frustration with the accusing Ebayer, and to most importantly, bring a few people some laughs.

The content of my Ebay posting follows:

Palm Tungsten E
– touch screen- mp3 player- palm OS software- BONUS free 256 MB SD card!

This palm functions perfectly.

It has been in the included (pictured) hard shell aluminum case, and has ALWAYS had a static screen protector on it. All the buttons, software, memory, mp3 player, photo player, etc. all work great.

I am upgrading to a Treo phone, so I don’t need this Palm anymore, otherwise I would keep it since it has been so good to me!

The only blemish on the Palm unit is where the stylus goes in/out, the silver finish is a bit worn. There is a photo of this. Also, the aluminum case has surface scratches, but is still in sturdy workable condition.

The case has a slot inside the front cover to hold an extra SD card.
The SD card holds music, photos, programs, etc.

Included items:

– Palm Tungsten E- Aluminum Clamshell Hard Case- 256 MB SD card- USB cable to sync with your computer- CD of Palm software for your computer- wall charger- car charger
Shipping cost includes required insurance.

On Jan-04-08 at 14:16:16 PST, seller added the following information:


If the above description is adequate for you to make a decision to purchase (or not purchase) this Palm Tungsten E, you don’t have to bother reading the following epistle.

For any of you who were wondering, yes I did cancel the previous auction of this same item, when it had just more than 1 day remaining and had one bid, and yes I relisted it immediately. I am just a twenty-six year old woman who tries to find good deals on Ebay for stuff I need, and tries to sell items I no longer need on Ebay for a good deal to someone who can use them.

The REASON I ended the auction, and relisted it, is because another Ebayer pointed out that I had made a mistake in the listing. It was late at night when I posted the listing, and I just didn’t notice that something incorrect had been pre-selected for me. My exhaustion and lack of concentration while posting the listing may have been a combination of my preoccuaption with my full-time job at a brokerage firm, my home business producing wedding videos, helping my husband market his computer repair business, planning the agenda for our young couple’s Bible study this month, worrying about my dad’s health, or as always, racking my brain for ways to pay off tens of thousands of dollars in student loans. It most certainly wasn’t anything close to an intentional decision to mis-represent my item.

Now for a bit more detail regarding the condition of the item, since I hope not to be accused of further lack of transparency.

My husband and I purchased identical Palms new from Circuit City a few years ago. This one for sale is my husband’s; I am keeping mine.

Since this item has been used by my husband, that will explain the multiple scratches all over the aluminum hard case, as well as the necessity of such a case. He is an incredibly dear, loving, but absentminded computer geek, who has a tendency to lose more expensive gadgets than I can buy him, drop things from great distances due to his 6 foot height, set fragile items on precarious stacks of mail near the edges of counters, and arrive home with rips in his jeans and coffee spilled down the front of his shirt – clueless that such faults have occurred during the course of his day.

The sturdiness of the aluminum case is revealed by the operational condition of this Palm Tungsten E. However, please don’t bid if you intend to ask for a refund because the aluminum hard case is “scratched.” I said it was scratched, and yes, it is scratched in many places. None of the scratches damage its functionality however, so if you don’t like my husband’s loving scratches, you can purchase a new case somewhere else and add your own individual scratches to it.

The back of the case has a plastic button intended for sliding into a plastic waist clip. The original flimsy plastic waist clip did not meet the same happy fate as the aluminum case, and was replaced several times before I gave up buying more. I believe you can buy additional flimsy plastic clips on Ebay or at your local Radio Shack.

Since we stopped replacing the flimsy plastic clips, my husband resorted to carrying the Palm in its case by other means. It has survived being shoved into over-stuffed pants pockets, thumped against door frames as the pants pass them by, and thrown into a 30lb backpack bulging with assorted screwdrivers, pliers, ragged-edged broken CDs, frayed cables, and possibly unnamed items acquired during one of my husband’s dumpster diving episodes.

The color touch screen appears to my 20-20 vision to be without scratches, however you may want to replace the static plastic protector that is over the screen. I thought we had extra static plastic protectors laying around, but they appear to have disappeared into the black hole that floats through our apartment sucking up my husband’s other valuable possessions.

I will be cleaning the Palm and case as best I can with q-tips and toothpicks, but if you find specks of dirt or tiny crumbs clinging in a smaller-than-toothpick-sized slit in the case or somewhere, please give me a bit of grace. I am a thorough cleaner with an eye for detail, but it is possible that something will slide through the cracks (no pun intended).

If you really are distressed by the condition of the item when you receive it, despite my exhaustingly intricate description, please contact me immediately. I will refund the cost of the item after you return it, but I will not refund shipping because I have done my darndest to give you the best description I can, and the shipping cost is money spent I can’t recoup, which takes away from paying “down” my student loans (I don’t say paying “off” because I’m not convinced that will ever happen before I die of old age).

In the meantime, I hope the honest ones among us (which is most) can continue to make Ebay a better place to buy, sell, window shop, and keep the world economy going.

| Filed under sarcastically humorous