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This final installment of The Hobbit was disappointing. That or, after talking about it so much, I really have become insensible.

Probably not. It was just…terribly disappointing. 😦

So is my ability to get things done. I didn’t mail the packages today. Again. But I will do this Thursday. I really really will.

Really.
I will.

I did get out to the jeweler to see if they might be able to fix my watch. And you know how it is when you are dealing with little old ladies who are not taking you seriously and are keen to get rid of you…they have a clipped way of talking that makes you feel like every thing they say to you is indicative of the conversation being over.

And so it was while I dealt with the woman who I suppose was more of a sales associate…I filled out the paper to leave the watch with them, and was on my way out when the other woman, with her funny little jeweler’s lens on her glasses, got interested and wanted to have a look at the watch…and do what I had already done and ask the internet about it, based on the logo on the face.

I was about to step out of the shop when she called me back. She scolded me for giving the price I had paid for it as what it was worth–but how was I to know I shouldn’t’ve done so?
I mean…I do get it now. I had not considered that if something happens to it while they have it, they have to reimburse me for the value of the watch. But in my defense, I could not be sure that it should be valued at more than what I paid. I didn’t want to be presumptuous and act like I was sure of what it was. I wasn’t. I am most definitely not an expert, and one never really knows what they’re getting when they buy things online.

She does this for a living though, and is pretty confident that it is what it was sold to me as. Fine by me. I’ll accept that assessment. And she also said–which I find a little peculiar–that even though mine clearly had more wear than the ones in her search, she would still value it similarly for its “historical interest”, as the wear means its original owner actually used it. (Which, I confess, is one of my primary considerations when I listen for the ticking. It’s a peculiar feeling. Especially when I admit that its primary function will now be to help me keep track of show times.)

That said, the shop ladies were both much friendlier to me after this rather informal appraisal…the second woman, especially, since she had a wrist watch from the same time period that she’d had repaired, and she told me a bit about that…some people really do warm up a lot if you can find even a shred of shared interest…

The person who does all the repairs and repair estimates for their shop won’t be available until next Monday, so I will have to wait about a week to know if it needs repaired or how much it will be to have it done…but…gosh…overall, I am pleased.

I admit I am not a good Etsy customer though. I never went back and reviewed the item because I was annoyed that I couldn’t get it to run, but I didn’t want to give a bad review if the fault turned out to be mine…and now I don’t want to give a review because I think this poor guy I bought it from did not really know what he was selling.

That or he just didn’t think he could get away with asking more for it. Or perhaps he really just wanted to get rid of it.

But yeah…I’m excited. I enjoyed having a pocket watch at my old theatre, and although it’s highly doubtful I will be sharing the more specific details about this one with anyone at work, the old ones were good conversation starters with our guests and with the employees. And I certainly need what help I can get to manufacture the unnatural (for me) amount of socialization required for my job.

Yay things to look forward to.
I mean, I’ve even been able to mitigate my paranoia about it.

Somewhat.

My visit to the shop has persuaded me that almost nobody is going to just know what it is. And if they do, maybe they will accept my explanation of, “well, I was feeling grossly morbid one night, and I was allowed access to the internet, and this thing happened to appear at exactly the wrong moment…”

You know me.

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