UPDATES

Time for some updates on your most pressing unresolved Salt in Wound topics!


So how did that spelling bee turn out?


Did I mention that the previous one - the one I won - was held at a hipster bar? By 2008 adult spelling bees had become passé, replaced by Guitar Hero contests.

How about the trip to Estonia?

I have it all planned out, but I have yet to make any actual reservations. I've concluded that Estonian will be an impossible language to pick up over the next 4 months, and that I'm not nearly as good at the sport of rogaining as I thought I would be. Last place is a very distinct possibility. Should still be fun, though.


Has Keenan gotten to hear any Backstreet Boys tunes yet?


No. I was able to tell him they were quite literally just a swindle.


Did anyone ever pick up that sand?


Nope. The other day when no one was home, I sliced open the bags and shoveled all the sand into an inconspicuous spot amongst the brambles, from whence it came.


What about the traffic cone?


Wait, I haven't posted about the traffic cone yet? That will be my next post, I promise.

Sandbagging

Craigslist has been hailed as a liberal triumph, and has put a lot of newspaper classified-ad staffers out of work. To me, it is mostly just odd.

While cleaning up the yard last weekend, Micaela uncovered three 60 lb. bags of sand under a bunch of brambles. This wasn't sandbox sand, or concrete sand, but sand that is recommended to put in your trunk to increase traction. We have no use for it, but with a retail value of $10-15, Micaela said, "Let's post it for free on Craigslist!"

So I did. Within minutes, there was a reply: "When and where can I pick it up?" Micaela was excited by the ease and efficiency of this system. "Don't get too excited," I said, "that sand could be with us for a while." For I have previously sold and given away around a dozen items on craigslist, and what I've learned is that there are people - many people - lurking and seizing on any new posting, with no intention of ever owning the item in question.

We got five offers for the sand on the first day. One, sent after dark from a remote town, said he would be there "in 1.5 hours". Another's e-mail address was lapmeballs@aol.com; simply replying probably made me the victim of some obscure pubescent prank. But I replied anyway, I replied to everyone, with my phone number and (approximate) address. The phone never rang.

The next morning there were eight more offers, to which I made eight replies. Later that day I did receive one call, but the person ended up being a no-show. Now on day five, the responses seem to have topped out in the low 20s. The sandbags remain on the driveway.

I don't even want to think about what it's like to post a personal ad.