It was 1984, Legoland. There were castles, knights in dull, grey, lego armour, over-tired little boys and girls, okay, mostly boys, who after having their hair cut with an upside down bowl on their heads, were busy building fortresses with a drawbridge to the blacksmith shop and secret passageways for their miniature protectors of Legoland–hideouts for playing mini-UNO and eating Junior Mints while off-duty, identified by two non-descript black dots for eyes and no other facial embellishments.
One unopened box of wonder sat dormant for the past twenty-seven years in a cupboard surrounded by scraps of material that thankfully did not ever make it into my wardrobe in the form of yet another jumper. Adorable when you’re six, slippery slope when you’re thirteen, fodder for a lifetime of ridicule when you’re twenty-nine.
So, today, some unlucky Lego-widow woke up to a shocking $315 withdrawal from the duplo/tinker-toy account and begged SirNerdlyC3P0@mulletsrule.com to seek help in the form of a time machine to get over the biggest deal breaker in their marriage. An obsession with the past, an unhealthy addiction to children’s toys and an inability to at the very least search for an app that would most likely build him a modern day blacksmith shop with 3D goggles and voice over ip technology to sharpen and grind his stones. Wii probably has a lego game where you can pluck at the air and build your masterpiece, rather than ever having to touch the plastic blocks or callous your delicate, joystick wielding hands.
Ebay and Kijiji have made it possible in this 24 hour, worldwide, on-line garage sale to not only get rid of a box of your junk but to open up shelf space for just the right polyester print to make that wrap-skirt (with matching children’s jumper) you’ve always wanted.
I thought I had seen it all when we were able to sell a set of polar bear license plates a few years ago to a very lucky recipient in France. Most importantly, that transaction taught my husband a very valuable lesson, to never, ever utter the phrase, “If this sells, I’ll eat my own shit.”
Two weeks ago we posted the unopened Legoland 6073 set for a greedy $300. The knights in full battle gear stared back at us stone-faced for the full seven days of the auction, blacksmiths busily gearing up for a road trip, changing into their travel armour for a sale that sadly, never happened.
We re-listed the set at $150, half the price of the original listing but ten times that of the original price, tag still affixed with masking tape to the box.
The bidding war began just minutes prior to the end of the week-long auction, first climbing in increments of $2.50 and from $152.50 in the final four minutes, we watched as the knights cheered us to a victorious $302.50 closing sale price. Miniature, yellow balls for hands were fist-pumping each other throughout Legoland.
Good luck at your new post in Texas boys. I think it’s safe to assume you are about to ruin some woman’s Valentine’s Day.
