When I posted last, four months ago (yikes!), I had every intention of continuing to post at least once a week, which I’d (almost) managed since last year’s Blogathon. But you know, sh*t happens. I got sick, Darling Son got sick; my blog broke, then got fixed; there were ISP issues, then there weren’t. But I’m back. You’re welcome. I know you, my two dozen loyal readers missed me greatly. Where were you getting your RDA of snark if not from me?

To continue on the theme of things getting in the way of plans, let me tell you about Saturday. I arranged to meet my amazing dog training friend Ali  for lunch. She wanted me to try this Vietnamese place in Bellevue that she adores, Square Lotus (which makes me wonder why square? Why not triangular or ovate? But I digress…). It was great. I had a noodle dish. Rice noodles, because I claim to be Sephardic through an aunt’s second ex-husband. That makes rice okay during Passover.

Ali had to go make a pie for Easter. She tried to get me hit up a bakery for dessert, but I claimed Passover. We walked back toward our cars and passed by a little gift shop in the throes of liquidation. “I loved that place,” Ali said. She pointed to her purse, a purchase she’d made there previously. We wandered in to see what was there. They had some nice framed art for cheap, and cards. I found a cute Chanukah card I’ll forget to send out later this year. There were little charms that don’t fit my Pandora knockoff. I bought and “L” and will promise myself to get a bigger jump ring so it fits. I’ll forget and remember off and on for a while. I’ll eventually put it in the fruit bowl on the counter where all the stuff I forget to file or put away goes. The night before my mom comes, I’ll furiously clean it out, and swear again I’ll get a new jump ring.

I picked up a cute magnet and walked back to pay for my purchases. There, clustered around an old fridge, were three women, scrubbing it down, wiping it out, polishing it up. It was a pretty little thing. Very mid-century modern. I commented on it and the response was an immediate, “Do you want it?” I couldn’t believe they were giving it away. It had to be worth a couple hundred bucks at least. But they had no computers left in the shop and weren’t adept enough with smart phones to have listed it on Craigslist. So I offered to do it for them.

I set Ali to work looking for something to guide me on pricing. The Ladies of the Store wanted to list it for $50. A working fridge as pretty as that? No way. ON Ebay, Ali found a listing for just the metal emblem at the top of the fridge. It cost $25.00. A red version of the fridge was listed at nearly $1300. After much amazement and dickering, we decided that Ali’s husband would drive down from North Bend, put it in his truck and bring it to my house, where it would live pending listing on Craigslist and eBay. Ali and I will split what we get minus 10% for the original owners.

So there it is, in my garage, this beautiful 1950 or 1951 Frigidaire. I looked on some antique and collectible sites and found restored versions selling for over $4,000. I listed it with a reserve of $600 on eBay and for a lordly $950 on the local Craigslist. I don’t think I’ll get that amount, but I figure it’s worth a week to see what pops. And sure enough, someone contacted me today. In broken English. This person had a Los Angeles area code. Further email suggested that this person wanted “the item”, wasn’t going to argue about the price, would send me a certified bank check and arrange pick up. When I responded warily, the emailer noted that he would be at work for three weeks and couldn’t come in person with cash.

So I reported it to craigslist.org as a scam because you know, it’s probably a scam.

You can’t always rely on plans. You plan on writing tomorrow or the next day or next week, but things get in the way. You plan on dessert but find a sale instead. Or you want to toss a fridge that you think no one wants and instead a couple strangers start chatting with you and you bond over a joint desire to write a book some day. And so it comes to pass that you end up with that fridge in your garage, and are tasked with getting rid of it for some non-zero number that will cover the $5 you spent on the eBay ad and the $5 your friend spent on gas getting it to your place. Ideally, there will be some left over for a coffee or a meal or maybe even your tax bill (which you have because you actually made way more money than you anticipated in 2012, and the increase in workload may actually be a less truthful but better sounding reason you haven’t blogged since December 1).

Yeah. Stuff happens.