THE PRICE OF BOREDOM: Confessions of an Addict

Rehab is hell.

Take it from one who knows the pain of ignoring a tantalizing email from a “favorite” Ebay dealer. It’s not easy to turn your back on the Art Deco broach made of brilliant fake diamonds, blue and green enamel, and set in iron–only slightly rusted iron.

I did it. I refused to be seduced into whipping my cursor to the “buy” button in order to make a bid.

Did you know that even when you fall for a “buy now” item and slap down your virtual money, you are still called, “The Winner!” It’s not easy to wrestle out a click hard enough to smash that “buy now” button, with it’s threatening yellow glare and mocking black letters.

I’ve done that. A lot. I have often been The Winner! See the callus on the first finger of my right hand?

My anti-clench retainer is bitten right through from enduring the heat of battle.

I did write to you about my collection of hand-knitted animals but I didn’t come clean. Yes, I WON them on Ebay. The octopus came from Australia, as did a chicken and a scarecrow. Mr. Plod, the bobby from the Noddy stories came from England and so did Big Ears, Noddy, Rupert Bear, The Teddy Bears’ Picnic, two large mouse ballerinas, a penguin, a girl in pink, a boy in blue . . . I’m wearing myself out and I might just need a finger or two later, if I’m bored again. I have a hoard of these sweet animals, but then, I only got them because I have little grandchildren, and because the animals are cute–and perhaps because a little kid just won’t get out of my head.

Miriam Haskell anyone? Ms. Haskell designed some pretty fabulous costume jewelry in the early 1900s and I thought it would be fun to have a piece of the real stuff. They are producing pale copies again now. I slogged and struggled, I slunk in to leave the odd bid, then stopped bidding until the last five seconds when, BAM, I crashed back and beat the last opponent formerly-still-alive opponent by, hehe, 1c. That’s true mastery.

Thirty or so pieces of Miriam Haskell jewelry later (one of anything gets lost, a collection is what one needs) I’m sorta out of love with baroque pearls, and the plastic fruit confections have lost their winsome way with me. I wish I knew how to sell on Ebay without actually having to do whatever it takes to sell on Ebay. I wonder if I should take a stall at the local market for a day.


I love Taryn Rose shoes. I don’t love what they cost. But Ebay to the rescue. Along come a pair of brand new Taryn Rose sandals and they were exactly the style I wanted. They were a steal, at least half-price:) When I opened those pretty puppies, I swooned. Glamorous didn’t cover it. But I learned another lesson: when you buy a pair of high heeled slide sandals, it does not work to go for half a size larger than you wear because the price is sooo good and what difference can half a size make anyway? Try keeping a pair of shoes like that on your feet and walking at the same time.

There is every reason to feel for me, though. I am worthy of consideration, even pity (not so fond of that) because I GET BORED, not often, just several times a day for periods of a few minutes. After all, what harm can it do to just pop on Ebay for a few minutes? That’s how I got a leather and iron doo dah that’s broken but which the seller wouldn’t take back because I hadn’t insured the thing.

Look at this, I’ve taken the ultimate first step and declared my addiction. I am an Ebay Addict and I’ve been clean for two days. (Cheers and applause here) For two days I have turned my back on the internet, refused to go there just because I’m searching around for words that won’t come. For two days I haven’t WON a single item.

Such pain.

But with the support of brother and sister addicts, I know I can stay off the button. Go ahead, offer up your addictions for the good of a friend: me.

What do you do when the beasts crawl in and you can’t concentrate, or you think you’re tired, when you’ve only been up two hours? How do you amuse yourself when you just want a break, when you absolutely have to waste time?

Cheers, Stella–who can feel the approach of that third day in her twitching right index finger.