Monday, August 13, 2012

I will not be boxed.

Of all the things to buy, one of the worst is gift bags.  Really? Four bucks for a bag that will get used once and then trashed? I don't care how much glitter you put on it. It's still a bag.

And just below buying gift bags is buying boxes.  I like to buy things in boxes, but the cardboard itself should come free.  Unless, of course you're trying to move. Then you must shell out serious dough for a temporary product whose whole point is to transport the things you care about.

You write fragile on all the boxes so the corrugation won't get smashed. After all you spent on them, they're gonna get willed to someone some day.

I've been packing tonight.  On Friday I will swap my address for another, a whopping five miles away. But still, everything I own has to be  evaluated, and the stuff that makes the cut must be boxed and labeled clearly with the items and destination room. You never really realize how much STUFF you can cram into a measly apartment until you try and get it all out again. This girl, as simply as she may think she lives, needs a lot of boxes.

Which makes me grateful for The Ridge liquor store. Besides purveying fine wine, they also get a lot of cases they unpack and no longer need.  So while my living room looks like the lair of a very wealthy person with a problem, I have yet to spend any money on boxes.

Thank you, Jesus, for the fruit of the vine and the wonderful things time will do to it. Thank you, too, that fermented drink always comes in heavy glass bottles that require a sturdy cardboard box to ship, and for the friendly people at The Ridge who happily have given me stacks and stacks of these. Thank you for taking care on the days I have fragile written on me, and while I wouldn't say you've made my outsides of cardboard, you definitely treasure what is within the most.  All my love.

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