Listing stuff on eBay

Spent the last hour making steps to rid ourselves of:

No room for this piece of imitation Chinoiserie, I'm afraid.

I do like this clock, but it doesn't go in the new kitchen

and i really don't see why we should keep any more remnants

from the previous owners than is absolutely necessary.

This hook arrangement is stupid, unwieldy and horrible and 

terribly reminiscent of the previous owners' aesthetic.

Glass doors from the dining room built it.

I wish I had a use for the glass...

No further words for this.

Can't get enough of this gilt edged goodness.  

Oh, wrong.  Apparently I can.

I don't even want to open the box to measure
the dimensions of this for the eBay description...

Watch this space in seven days...

Day 16: Still culling: The Sequel

It's day 5 of the 5 day eBay listing of the garden furniture set and the Weber BBQ left behind by the previous owners.  The auctions are due to end shortly and both items will sell.


However, my cavalier listing (of the table and chairs particularly) has presented quite the unexpected learning curve, and I am now tinged with the merest hint of discomfort as I fear I may have inadvertently misled the prospective purchaser.


From the first day, questions have been pouring in about whether the furniture is really wrought iron as I've stated.  Or is it aluminium?  Once the question was posed, I immediately suspected I'd falsely listed because the thing can't possibly be iron if it's not heavy.  And it's not heavy.  I mean, it doesn't blow about in the weather or anything, but it's in no way difficult to lift a chair and move it from one place to another - and surely it would be if it was iron (cast or wrought).  


Cripes, who knows?  I certainly don't.


I actually had someone contact me, even though my ponderings and doubts about the material were listed with the ad, to offer $1500.00.  I responded that they could not possibly be serious.  To which they replied that 19th century furniture of this type is very rare.  Naturally I quickly disabused them of their misconception, stating it couldn't possibly be anything other than reproduction, and to this point, that party, of the 41 watchers, has not placed a bid.  Phew.


The Weber has also inspired a little interest.  I felt sure no-one could possibly think that the lily has been gilded with regard to the description although with minutes to go and I look from the photo to the real life thing, it's clear that this Weber is very photogenic after being hosed down.  Not so much when its dry.  It'll sell for under $20, and there's no reason it doesn't still work, so I'm not fussed.  


The lesson in all this is, however, to stop the pricking conscience, is to pay a little more attention when listing.  Noted.


In the meantime, our own auction success arrived today.  Lo!

It summoned to mind a Grand Designs episode.  The one with the minimalist house with the one thousand pound stirling tap which arrived with its own pair of white cotton gloves for handling.  Ours is not quite so fancy, nor pricey.  But I'm happy with the purchase now I've seen it in person.  I'd had a little anxiety that it might look flimsy, but those concerns are now distant.  It really looks quite the thing.


Me:  happy.


Oh.  Email just came through.  The sale price of the table and chairs was...*S gasps*... $149.00.  Heavens!  And I was going to throw it on the rubbish pile for the tip.


And the Weber.  $49.00.  Well.  Well.  Well.


Me:  happy.

Funding the dream...

Mum was a bit hysterical when she phoned this morning - normally that's my job - but she undertook the task with vigour.  


The massive storms and torrential rainfall of last night had freaked her out as she watched the pool overflowing, water gushing out of one of the gutters and flooding the eaves, and leakage at the kitchen window.  From what she'd described, I was prepared to turn up with towels, a mop and a rigid determination to tackle floodwaters in the family room - but the House at Porter Street, up high on the hill as it is, fared extremely well and I think the water only entered because the window wasn't closed, not because of any structural impairment.


So I arrived at the House after a slow drive there (expecting, in vain as it turned out, to be chassis deep in water in the valleys), entered with my newly cut key(!), hugged Mum and knew she was ok.  And then, after a deep out and then in-breath, Mum launched into a truly impressive stream of consciousness monologue inspired by a combination of: 

• a continuing lack of sleep
• genuine enthusiasm
• discovery of the house plans from the original build
• ideas from outside of the box and
• having had no-one to talk to.

When she finally drew breath and made a cup of tea, I sat down and had a look at the plans myself.  And they prompted a few questions, not the least of which was how do drafts personages and architects get their writing so neat and regular?


The house plans revealed the size of the house:  particularly exciting since we had no idea of the official size of the house or the size of the land (the latter of which we are still wholly in the dark about).  Now it should be noted that the plans omit two major features - without one or either of these the house would not've fitted our brief.  Those aspects are my vinyl boudoir, and the other is the space above the garage known as Mum's pine box.  (Not to be confused with area identified as the "sowing room" which we can only suspect must've been for the previous owners' propagation purposes.)


If were were to include those rooms I'd say the footprint (ex garden and pool, but inc. undercover outdoor area which miraculously stayed tinder dry during the downpour) is around 37 squares.  And since I have no clue what that means, I googled and discovered the magical equation which makes these numbers more meaningful:

1 square = 100 square feet = 9.29 square metres.

So the house is big.  And I knew that already, because when I was rampaging through on settlement day, I was shattered after just a few laps.

Anyway, we went on to talk about how much we love our new kitchen, what we are prepared to pay, identifying other works (lots), and how much furniture I might have to dispose of on eBay in the next week to help fund the plan.


Consequently I've spent a goodly expanse of time when I should've been packing this afternoon, putting items up for auction.  Wish us luck.