Marilyn Monroe Selling Gold

My gold collection is an assortment of shapes, memories, and ages. Have I waited as well long to clear it up, to skillfully time rocket-high costs for gold and also the 'spring' cleaning in the jewelry box? Perhaps there is still time. I am rather fond of lots of pieces, others, tokens of occasions long gone; embody gilded beauty of memories and whispers of bitterness. Was it Marilyn Monroe who claimed that diamonds are the girl's greatest buddy? The planet knows where her close friends got her. There's a thing right away temping in surrendering faltering memories (or maybe the lack thereof) to a salesman, for tricky, solid cash. How a lot of us appear at our bank statement and find either an quick reassurance within the beauty and stability of their personal globe or possibly a staggering headache? I know I do. The sensation is by no means the exact same, as times to reap are followed by the time to saw.



Presents of affection, which has gone out of life, similar to the pieces themselves have gone out of style, foes, rather then pals, may be traded in for an unplanned vacation. The idea requires shape, grows, and becomes a B-rated film fantasy. The image of a portly fellow with a jeweler's glass, arriving at my door with an intentionally un-suspicious beaten-up leather suitcase filled with money, damping sweat off his balding head and thick brows having a crumpled handkerchief, as out of date as the gold I am selling plays in my head. As he is leaving the property just after an unhurried examination, and good-natured bargaining, my jewelry box and his suitcase both lighter, our moods brighter, he pauses on the doorstep, turns around, and using a traditional "Almost Forgot!" exclamation digs into his jacket pocket. Out comes a bottle of sun block lotion with my name on it. "That's complimentary." Couple of minutes later I'm picking a holiday. I am completely positive of two items. 1: the gold purchaser at my door is a fruit brought forth by numerous generations of snake oil salesmen. Two: I got a great deal. The daydreams finish with me seeking out at the increasing sun out of a plane window, and the huge, fancifully-drawn subtitle: "She is happy she sold her gold." slowly fade across the screen. I wouldn't be a proper cynic if I let it end there. Subsequent shot: a hole in the ground, plane wreck, burned ground and metal, the major, fancifully-drawn subtitle: "Boy, was she wrong."Slowly fading across the screen. The end.



As the smart guys are playing with the world, I am playing with my trinkets. Gold rates are going up. Gold rates are going down. Sell gold. Buy gold. Hang on to it till you die, let your relatives sell it following. Give it away to the first stranger who features to acquire it off your hands and smiles nicely. This is not a significant selection, but it is a somewhat of a severe step.



Do you break up together with your beau the moment he tires you, or do you stick about to determine if it will bring about a marriage, so you that you simply can have a life-long completion of tiring each-other out (the first one particular to call it quits or to die looses)? I've spent virtually a life time with a few of my pieces. I'm prepared to let them go. The question is when and the way.



It's mid August, and gold has been steadily declining for any week, closing at $825 - its lowest throughout 2008. Sensible males - wildly canny and ridiculously well-educated investors, for whom I carry the most profound respect and reverence, even when they don't appear to agree with each-other a much better part of the time on most concerns, are swiftly expressing their opinions of exactly where will gold stock head tomorrow. I wish I had a crisp and outstanding financial degree from a single with the world's top rated ten organization schools, so that I'd have the ability to pit my guess against theirs, locking horns using the greatest in business enterprise. Alas!

Cash for gold