Today was the kind of day that makes you want to run out into the yard and play ring around the rosey with woodland creatures. Or I suspect it would, for people who aren’t dead inside and somewhat sluggish from the consumption of twelve pounds of candy in the last 24 hours. But suffice it to say that it’s not normally 70 degrees and sunny on November 1st, around here.
What I should’ve done today was rake leaves and tend to my yard. I considered it, actually. Then I came up with a whole list of things I’d rather do than rake. The list included such goodies as accidentally dye my hair black again, step on a rusty nail, cover myself in papercuts and bathe in lemon juice, and crack my elbow on the shelf in my shower. Wait. The cracking my elbow thing was just an accident this morning. And it hurt like hell. Anyway, I was not inclined to rake, because I know that soon all of that stuff with be underneath snow where no one can see it. And as we all know, things we cannot see don’t exist. Lalalala!
Nevertheless, a gorgeous day like today called for something special. Today was not the sort of day to be wasted inside. I decided to go to the dump.
I am such a high society wench.
I gathered up all of my cans and bottles and jars… and newspapers… and magazines… and catalogs. They filled a small bus. Then I turned to behold the wall of cardboard boxes lining my garage. Ah, what the heck. It’s a nice day. I’ll break down some boxes and take ’em to the dump, get them out of here.
As I broke down box after box (after box after box after box after… you get the idea), I came to the conclusion that I get a lot of stuff sent to me in boxes. Of course, if you order a board game from Amazon you’re likely to receive it in four different boxes because Amazon is in favor of killing trees and also packaging things in the most bizarre manner possible. Then I have an assortment of boxes from other places… clothes for the kids… eBay stuff… I have no idea, but apparently I should consider shopping at an actual store instead of through the shiny box on my desk, sometime.
I like the part where I don’t have to drive anywhere or deal with any actual humans. But I don’t enjoy the part where half my garage is filled with boxes. Hmph.
Eventually I set off to the dump, my heart filled with joy at the prospect of emptying my house of all this useless junk. I sorted everything into the appropriate recycling stations and then promptly filled my car up with books at the book shed. And some Pokemon board game that looks to me like it will cause my eyeballs to bleed, but which will cause Monkey to reel from sheer joy.
[Sidebar: At what point am I allowed to say I DO NOT CARE TO ENCOURAGE MY CHILDREN TO READ and stop actually enabling them in their frighteningly poor taste in literature? I’ve already discussed the insipidness of the Pokemon books. But the only way I can, in good conscience, bring home Mary-Kate and Ashley books for Chickadee is to demand that she eat something fattening while she reads them.]
So, net-net, I freed up a couple of cubic inches, maybe. Which totally meant I was due for a trip to Target.
I went there to pick up my prescriptions, honest. That other stuff… just… jumped into my cart. That was a REALLY GOOD PRICE for Honey Bunches of Oats. And that other stuff. And despite having brought home ten pounds of candy apiece last night, the children had nary an atomic fireball between the two of them, which was a TRAVESTY. And candy was 50% off and we have plenty of candy but COME ON. No fireballs?? That’s like not having a tree for Christmas.
It came to me in a flash why I’m actually much safer shopping through the computer. I’m much less likely to throw random stuff in my cart.
However, when I get home from Target, it’s a lot easier to ball up and throw away the evidence.
So you can see, it was a pretty exciting day. I had to eat a couple of peanut butter cups just to relax.