Dickering with people, answering dumb questions, arranging to be in, forever available for a showing...
If it's not priced to sell. I don't need to sell it. Fuck off. It's priced at a price I'm comfortable parting with it for . To ensure it goes to a good home. The dolls, for example, they're a symbol to me of love. When I bought them I was in love. Now I am not. But - I remember love and value it accordingly - this is the price. If you don't like it don't buy it. You know, fuck - man- fuck - I recommend against it anyways. You know - almost everyone that has been there would...
The Telescope, it's symbol of curiosity. I used to be curious. I'm already taking a big hit, let's not make it worse...
If I don't sell it I'm glad to live with it. I didn't want to sell it anyways.
But you know, just so you know, it would have been cheap at double the price.
Another one, Oz, older than I expected given how dynamic his voice was over the phone, and I was picturing the old Aussie firefighter roommate, he's finally here to pick up all his shit, from out of town, I'm gathering it all from all corners of the apartment, cupboards, under, over, behind...tallying it all up:
"$85.00 + $40.00" - $110.00..."bloody hell!..."...doesn't matter, it's gotta go, he's not unfair, but the discounts upon discounts try my patience, the inconsequential misadditions and sums, everything is priced to sell...
He's asked about a chest, looked it over, lowballed me, I was savagely pleased to sell it to another person that same day, someone with deeper pockets, and I know he'll be looking for it and kicking himself that it's gone and somehow that satisfies me...