Midnight Oil


I just kissed my husband goodbye as he headed out to work his second overnight shift in a row.

No one ever said that trying to get ahead in life would be easy. It’s hard to imagine that the road to contentment could be filled with such…discontentment.

Late nights. Early hours. Miles and miles of driving from one place to the next. Fueled by coffee and the promise of a better life sometime in the hopefully not too distant future.

Reselling is fickle. You could have a $500 sale day and then a week of silence. Your items might never sell. You might find yourself so desperate to get rid of something that you accept an offer far less than you wanted.

When my husband walks out the door, he knows that he’s getting paid for that job. When I buy something to resell, I have to hope that the money I invested isn’t a waste. That someone somewhere is looking for that specific dress in the size and color that I currently have.

It’s scary to not be in control. To put money out that you might never get back. Heck, it’s the reason I have a trailer in the driveway packed from floor to ceiling with all of my past mistakes. All of which I plan on carting to a flea market when the weather gets warmer to try and recoup some of my overhead costs.

Even with all of the variables in the air, I don’t see myself backing down. It’s why I come home from work and immediately hop onto my laptop and start listing.

As unpredictable as it can be, I would take unpredictable cash flow to none at all.