While home for our family's patented "early Christmas," my dad commented "you girls spend a lot of time on computers." I'm tempted to dismiss his observation as the Luddite views of an octogenarian, but, um, TRUE DAT.
I spent the bulk of my time catching up on blogs, reviewing a friend's young-adult novel, and playing stupid games. But I'm here to attest that my sister spent nearly 10 hours a day on etsy: checking etsy, researching on etsy, favoriting on etsy, creating secret treasuries on etsy, yadda yadda. Basically, plummeting down the etsy wormhole. It was a wonder to behold.
And now I'm doing it too. Lord, help me.
One night, while in Florida, my sister crept into the room we were sharing and I awoke from an AWESOME dream I was having about an AMAZING estate sale, with lots of cool mixed-media artwork that I knew I could sell for big bucks on etsy. Snis hooted when I told her about it—even louder as I desperately attempted to re-enter that great dream.
Then, last night, after exploring a wormhole of carnival/medical oddity items (represented above), I dreamed I had flown out of town to a flea market that was really good, ran into a medical-oddity dealer and we fell in love, so I skipped my flight home—in part hoping he'd give me some good deals. WTF.
Great. Just like spicy food, I now need to avoid etsy before bed.


