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Clearly I'm in need of a constructive, time-consuming hobby, like quilting perhaps. Until then, I'll continue to occupy the void in my brain by peddling my lame wares, and what better way to do that than by having not one but two Etsy shops. YES. How lame am I? It's like when I was a kid and I would sell shit from the Sunshine Sales Club in exchange for really flimsy prizes, like a Sunkist scooter or wiffle ball set. I'd always get such a thrill when I made a sale, even though it was always just my Pappap buying stale caramels in tins decorated with Kincaide-style art. Once, he bought a money clip too. It broke after a week.
You never know, there might be a gang of animal mask photo collectors dwelling in a cave outside of Kissimmee RIGHT NOW. And unlike that faux-brass money clip, my photos don't break. Well, OK they do, but only when they're intentionally torn. They won't just spontaneously shred and shrivel in their frame, and that is a guarantee that I can stand behind in good faith. (If faith existed in my life.)