Depression Buster

It often happens that, when I need to cleanse my palate of the taste of drudgery that this gig engenders, I will browse our local Craigslist. This distraction is not without risk. There is always the clear and present danger that I may acquire something. Generally, the threat of acquisition is low. Unlike eBay, from which I weaned myself after several obsessive years during which I purchased every antique typewriter I could afford, Craigslist requires some leg-work. With eBay, you point and click and pay online—and before you know it the courier is hurling your fragile treasure at your front porch. As you amass a quantity of such treasures (often for spare parts to repair the original treasures), you may begin to note a lack of floor space. Thus, more than anything, eBay is Langley Collyer’s Revenge. Craigslist entails direct human interaction and the physical exchange of goods for cash. After you have assured the vendor you are not a robot and have clicked every picture that looks like a motorcycle, you receive contact information and leap in. During the recent brief respite between exciting new COVID variants, I happened upon and fancied a particular item over which I hemmed and hawed for a few days before initiating the Craig-slog. It was a radio that I could not possibly live without—much like the 50 other radios I own. This one was remarkable, though. It was a restored P