Buying things is easy. Selling things is much harder. This may not be true for everyone, but it certainly has been my experience. Selling almost always involves negotiation and compromise. Deals are made and broken. People change their minds. I can't say that I enjoy this process. I've never been a haggler. I pay the asking price or I walk away. Maybe this is why the storage warehouse is so full of stuff that is way past its expiration date. I buy things but I never sell.
I don't want a bunch of strangers fighting over my stuff in an episode of Storage Wars, so I guess selling is almost inevitable. Today I agreed on a lower price for some of my model trains. I reviewed a rather disappointing proposal from an auction house. What ate up most of my time was moving vintage synthesizers around. I picked up a restored synthesizer from the audio shop. I took this instrument to the vintage guitar store to consign and retrieved two more broken synthesizers and a vintage drum machine to take back to the keyboard technician. These repairs are expensive, so I'm not sure I'll make much money when the equipment finally sells. I don't have much of a choice though. I either fix the stuff or throw in in a dumpster.
This whole process of unwinding is much more difficult than I imagined. It's making me question the whole concept of ownership. I'm beginning to think that none of us really owns anything. We just rent it for a period of time. Everything passes through our hands eventually. Thirty years ago, the model train guy told me "Someday, I'll have all these trains back in my store." I didn't believe him at the time, but he was right.
While I was at the guitar store, the owner and I talked about the difficulty of calculating the future value of anything. He told me how he had spent an entire Summer's earnings while he was in college on one of the very first flat screen televisions. Then he pointed to a huge TV on the wall at the store. "I got this thing for less than $200," he told me. I could relate. I spent a small fortune once on an early model Osborne 1 computer that looked like a Singer sewing machine and had a screen smaller than my phone.
Dash let us sleep all night last night. It was wonderful. He didn't leave the bed or do anything weird at all. Around 7 AM, Dash woke up, went to the back door and peed and pooped outside, just like a normal dog. He ate well today too. When you've got a dog as old and sick as Dash, you really learn to appreciate the good days.
I wasn't very hungry this morning. A single small waffle filled me up. Janet doesn't think I'm eating enough, but I'm gaining weight. Go figure. I think I never realized how much exercise I was getting when Dot and Dash were young and healthy. Those two dogs could walk forever.
I'm hoping for another restful night. Sleeping well can make all the difference. Maybe sleep deprivation has already affected my memory. I saw something on Facebook today in memory of the lead guitar player in one of my old bands. "Did you know Woody had died," I asked Janet? "Yes", she said. "You told me two years ago." So it begins.
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