We have been waiting to leave on an epic road trip for about a week now. It all rests on if we get this damn car sold. Because none of us (going with a third friend) have the money to pay for gas on our own we are using the money we get from selling a family car. Sad, weird, awkward, annoying situation? We are aware. The problem with waiting and being unsure of when to leave seems to diminish some of the excitement and spontaneity. Well to be honest, a lot of it. We have to be back by the 5th of August and therefore each day we don’t leave, our trip gets shorter and shorter and we have to keep cutting out stops and states and pretty soon it will be to Tennessee and back with nothing along the way. Which is fine, but still not at all what was supposed happen and as much as it can be denied, disappointing.
When you’re waiting for something to happen there always seems to be this need to place blame on someone. Even when there is absolutely nothing we can do to make it happen, it is always someone else’s fault. They didn’t call this person at the right time, or they didn’t hang the flyers up in the right place. There is always blame flying around waiting for a new victim.
The truth is, it isn’t really any of our fault. We tore up craigslist, hung hella flyers, and facebook knows of nothing of us but what we are trying to sell. The problem isn’t with our marketing skills, the problem is with the market. It sucks. And trying to blame each other doesn’t help make people want to spend money. But what are we going to do? Wait. And try harder.
If you know anyone who wants to spend some money on a great little car, show them this.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
About Me
- Doris Deadbones
- The Learning Curve of an Adult Child is singularly me. I suppose it's about the trials and tribulations involved in what "they" call being a grown-up. But maybe it's just about things that happen and things I think about... (Also, that is my computer generated pirate name) My other blog, [hap]hazard, is my best friend and I. We enjoy adventuring.
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