I got sniped in an auction last night. I watched the thing all day. Put my bid in before lunch and sat with the high bid all afternoon telling myself repeatedly that I must not get my hopes up. Must not plan the many delightful projects I would work up if I actually won. I am aware that sniping is a thing. I spent some time mentally preparing myself for the possibility that last second (not minute, second) bids would most likely happen and that I wouldn’t win this lot of stuff I so craved. I lost by 50 cents. Is post-auction loss depression actually a thing?
Crafting is expensive. In the long run one does save money by giving handmade things as gifts and by using already owned materials to make needed things. If you think of my auction in a certain way I actually saved money by losing since I was fine without the goods I didn’t win before I knew they existed and will live without them now that some sniping piece of garbage has won them. Yes, I am a freak and stalked her profile. She’s a housewife who has nothing but time to sit and make beautiful things all day and obviously has the money to afford to buy things at full price. I am aware that winning materials for cheap at auctions like this is one of the reasons she appears so affluent. I’m mostly just bitter and whining uselessly at my inability to catch a break. I have things, THINGS! inside me that need me to make them. They need to come out and be made and gifted and sold to others. Sadly, real life doesn’t appear to be inclined to cooperate with me so all of these wonderful things just stew in there.
As delightful as it is, crafting can be depressing too. At least for me. I go to stitch and bitch gatherings and see how incredibly quick the others are and wonder what one has to do to get a stitch rate so speedy you can’t even see their hooks or needles flying. I hear about mountains of yarn, and beads and findings and tools available free to good homes and can’t seem to be the good home they were looking for. I plod through my day at work thinking about all the great stuff I could be making and then run my arse off all evening with my son and then fall into my comfy chair too exhausted to go down and clean out the space I’ve chosen to house my little obsession with handmade stuff.
I know I just need to be patient. Work will figure itself out. My son will get to an age where he could work beside me or do his own thing instead of dragging me away from anything that isn’t paying strict attention to him. My workbench will get cleaned out and set up. Jars and baskets of supplies gleaming in neat and tidy array just waiting for me to put on some wicked good tunes and tell the real world to fuck off for a while. I’m making things. I just have to wait. Wait and keep trying. It’ll all line up someday and I’ll be ready.
On the subject of good tunes. I’ve been directed to an incredible online radio station. Classic rock. Probably what I’ll have on when I finally get the chance to find my crafty side and let her go free.
Check him out.