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Chapter 4 - These Old Hands

Saturday didnít dawn any brighter. To the contrary, in direct violation of an earlier resolution I woke up with one of the worst eBay hangovers Iíd had in some time. I know, scouting out wee-hour auctions and swooping in with a few bids at the last minute with no aim other than to drive up the price is not a very sober thing to do. Itís also something I thought Iíd weaned myself off, and not just on ethical grounds. Like accepting phone calls from the DNC, eBay is a budgetary minefield. Look no further than all the stuff around here I donít need or even like that much, such as an extensive collection of aluminum coasters with matching tumblers, not to mention all this damn Tupperware. As penance, I dragged myself out of bed well before noon, hell-bent on buckling down on the book. According to the Post-It on my fridge, the deadline clock was ticking. And a well-chosen change in venue promised to prod things along.

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