Well, it's another Thursday night at home. The trash has been taken out. Taking out the trash scares me, since I'm afraid that the great big toter is going to get away with me and go rolling out into Main St. Or worse, somehow get going downhill into town and I'll be sued by everybody for three blocks on account of my trash had a moving violation with their car.

The Hub is down in his newly cleaned out studio, where, with the door closed, he can honestly say he can't hear anything that's going on up here. It's like his bat cave. I think all men have a need to retreat to their own personal bat cave every once in awhile. They're kind of like dragons, though. I mean women GATHER in brightly lit places like shopping malls and tea rooms...and even when women retreat we do it someplace that smells nice, like the bathroom, all scented with candles and bath salts. But men hang out in dark, low places. The basement workshop. The garage. The Shed. The dimly lit neighborhood bar. I don't get it. When they're depressed or stressed they go someplace more depressing. Why is that? Does retreating to a place with cinderblock walls, greasy engine parts and the vauge smell like the cat mighta had an accident make a man's interior landscape look better to him by comparison? Hmm..One of those mysteries of the opposite sex that may be left unexplored.

Anyway, I'm sitting here rolling change to get money together to pay for Winston to have a bath tomorrow. Winston REALLY needs a bath, especially if he's going to keep hopping up in bed with me to sleep. I know that it's theoretically possible that I could bathe him myself....but, really, it's worth the $30, especially if I can get most of it out of this loose change that The Hub has squirrelled away on top of the refrigerator. ( yes, he knows I'm taking it)

Plus, I'm encouraged because my vintage blouse sold on ebay last night. I was surprised, because nobody had been watching it. Of course, I only made a dollar on it, but a buck is a buck. I bought myself some things at the Goodwill. Some of them fit me, and some of them almost did. The prices were great - nothing over $5.00 including a reversable 100% silk jacket. Because I couldn't get a dressing room to try things on, I went ahead with my purchases, thinking that they were nice enough and in good enough shape that I could at least get my money back through ebay if they didn't fit. The blouse almost fit, but it had those wierd thin arms they made back in the 60's before women ever dreamed of working out.

When I first listed it on ebay, I got very discouraged. I mean, I thought the blouse was nice - nice enough to buy for myself. And I've always prided myself on having a "good eye": after all I've been getting dressed at the Goodwill for most of my life, I ought to have the hang of it by now. But nobody put a "watch" on it, and the competition for vintage clothing is FIERCE. There's a lot out there, and you can find anything you want if you can find your size. I didn't dare start the bids at too high a price, especially since I hardly have any feedback - that is, no reputation in the online marketplace as a seller. But darned if somebody out in CA didn't snatch it up at the last minute, and I dutifully sent it out via UPS this morning, with a nice note. And now that I had a screaming match with PayPal and got my account with them unhosed ( to quote Rob) payment went right into my account like greased lighting. I LIKE that!

So maybe I'll keep at this ebay thing. After all, I always have something around here that I'd be willing to part with, the whole "Material Girl" thing of the 80's never quite caught on with me. And I often see things that are bargains in thrift shops that wouldn't be right for me, but are a helluva deal. That's like a service, bringing them to light of the world wide market place right? Or is this just me indulging my workaholism?