Score!

Today we had our holiday event at work, which is always lots of fun, the highlights of which are the silent and oral auctions. As I was perusing the Star Wars video tapes, ceramic knick knacks, rooster clocks, and John Grisham novels, my heart skipped a beat when I saw a K'nex set with no bids on it. I think K'nex are pretty cool, but my determination to get those K'nex went far beyond "pretty cool." Let me back up to two Christmases ago.

I bought 3 packs of K'nex that covered 3 or 6 of the basic machines (I forget if there were one or two machines per pack). It was a teacher pack that included physics lessons for later elementry grades, and this was going to be the kids' big joint gift, plus it was going to be our science curriculum for a little while. The box arrived and I managed to sneak it in the house without anyone seeing it. I opened up the box and pulled out and fondled the K'nex boxes, aquiver with anticipation about how much fun they were going to be. Then I carefully hid the box. Carefully, as in really well hidden. Not as in, taking great care to remember where I hid it. To this day, $60 worth of K'nex are hidden somewhere in this house. I'm thinking of them as my retirement plan, now that my 401k has mostly disappeared: by the time I find them they'll be collectors items--pristine condition, original packaging, never opened!

So I bid on the K'nex at the auction, and then as the end of the auction drew near I used every obnoxious silent auction tactic I could think of to make sure I got those K'nex. I hovered over the sheet and badmouthed K'nex, I told everyone my sob story as proof of how I deserve to win those K'nex, and if someone actually made it through my gauntlet and bid on them, I outbid them again as soon as they were out of sight. And yes, I did actually win the K'nex. Now, having spent $71 on K'nex, there is a 1/2-way built K'nex roller coaster sitting in the front room. Take that, K'nex gods!