Gifts For Any Occasion
I was just chuckling to myself about a near-catastrophe from a few months back, so, hell--I'll share it with y'all too. Those of you who see me often and are used to me looping on stories for weeks and heard this five times already can roll your eyes preemptively.
I am a compulsive box hoarder. I can't just throw packing boxes out since almost every bit is recyclable, but they overwhelm me. It takes a lot of time to sort out the packing material, tear the sticker part off the invoice then put the remainder into the right pile (shred or straight-to-recycling bin), tear off and trash all the shipping tape, and then break the box down. I usually end up tossing the boxes into a growing pile in the corner of the garage instead. If they threaten to topple onto one of Seymour's bikes, he will dispatch the boxes himself. Otherwise they sit there until I need to ship something.
A few months ago the to-be-shipped objects were framed pictures of the kids for Seymour's grandmother. I rooted through the pile until I found a box with the correct dimensions and packing materials. I stuffed the pictures in, slapped the package together, and set my keys on top so I wouldn't forget to mail it. Then I turned around and saw the card Iz made to go along with the pictures sitting on the counter. Fark!
Grumblingly, I tore open the package and dumped everything on the counter. And hey, what came fluttering out from underneath the packaging , but a nice color catalog. From Good Vibrations.
After I picked myself up from the floor and resumed breathing, I went through all the packing materials very carefully, taped the box shut, and sent it off. And swore to monitor all packing materials from that day forth.
By the way, the "imaginative and romantic" smutty video that originally came in the box totally sucked.
I've been told three times this week that I couldn't be expected to accomplish something (critical thinking and analysis in the latest case) because of "everything I'm going through." If it happens again I will run away shrieking or bop them on the head. I don't care if people feel sorry for me, but they can fucking keep all that pity and patronizing to themselves. I don't need it. I do need to be treated like the same old goofy dimwit I was before all this crap with Leelo started happening.