If you sell on eBay for a living or if you have ever have dabbled in selling online at all, you may be able to identify with me.
My name is Celeste and I am a box hoarder.
I didn't become a box hoarder overnight... no sirree. Like all bad habits it was a compulsion that had a gradual start then blossomed into a full time addiction.
I started slow with eBay, way back 10 years ago when I discovered it. I was somewhat intimidated and got my feet wet bit by bit, selling the odd item here and there until I became more comfortable and accustomed to how it all works. I would sell an item then look for a box to pack it in once the item had sold. I discovered that doing so often left my shipping estimate somewhat short and I lost money on the mailing of the item.
The solution to this problem seemed obvious to me... stock more boxes and have a preselected box before listing the item on eBay. This way you would always know exactly what the shipping would be and it did prove to be a success in very short order.
The unfortunate side effect however was a pile of boxes steadily accumulating in my basement. Yes, many got used but there is always more boxes to be had. They are practically giving them away you know.
At first this was tolerable. It was easy enough to set apart some space in the roomy basement of my large house in which to store my packing materials. Soon an entire room was filled with boxes. Folded boxes, boxes in boxes, mailing tubes and bubble mailers and of course, all the stuffing accoutrements that went along with them. A heavy desk my husband dragged home from work because it was being discarded soon joined the party. It made a great shipping table and had drawers to store all the tape and tissue and bubble wrap needed to protect the items being sold. It seemed a valuable addition but soon proved to simply be in the way of the boxes. The desk moved to an adjacent room and soon the boxes owned the entire space.
I sometimes felt that they must be reproducing in there... wanton box orgies were happening after I closed the door and they were making babies with gay abandon. Not that more boxes would be a bad thing but all those little baby boxes didn't seem to have much use.
Still, this situation was acceptable because they were downstairs and out of sight and out of mind (until I needed one of course).
Then came the divorce in 2004. I would have to move my precious boxes and to a home substantially smaller than the one I was living in. Some boxes could come with me but they would have to be my very favourites. Some would be used to pack my belongings so they too would make the trip and be put to work at the same time.
However, some would have to go. There was just no other way. I was consoled only with the thought that there are always new boxes by the roadside and in the grocery stores that were looking for homes and a meaningful life again.
So... when I started over again in a small three bedroom cottage on Lake Erie I had only a very small compliment of boxes. Just the best of the best. Soon though, the box brigade started up again. Still selling on eBay meant that new boxes had to keep coming in and Port Colborne proved to be even more box wealthy than Caledonia had ever been.
Now, with no basement and only one small room to spare for storage, the boxes threatened to take over again. They were competing for space with my SHIT.... but SHIT is another topic and one that the late George Carlin did best me thinks.
For the last year I have been trying to keep a handle on the situation but every once in a while I notice it is getting out of hand again. When this happens I need to purge and that is so hard when you love all your boxes.
It's also harder now because the boxes have started to talk to me. I cannot tune them out.. I hear them in my head and it is very disconcerting.
"Celessssste.... don't cut me up and throw me out... I have been with you for 8 years now... you can't get rid of me... I am part of you..... I understand you..... you need me"
It is so difficult to discard a perfectly good box that somewhere, I know, lies the perfect item that could be shipped in it. I admit to getting better but I know the only real solution is to give up eBay. When I do I will be box free and may have some normalcy in my life again.
Until that day... the boxes rule.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Summer People
As I sit here in late August and relax by a very quiet Lake Erie, I am content to know that the Summer People will soon be gone.
You know the Summer People... those people who surreptitiously relocate to cottage country every year. One day they are not here... the next day they are. They are easy to recognize.... they have every transportable possession in tow and more often than not this includes spare family members and/or copious amounts of alcohol. You very well may be one of these people and to you I mean no disrespect.
The majority of them are quite lovely and very friendly, for the most part. I tend to group them into three categories:
1. The Slightly Annoying
These are the people you hardly ever see and can't hear down at this end of the road and you need only nod and wave to as you drive by.
2. The Moderately Annoying
These are the people that occupy the immediate cottages around me.
3. The Completely Annoying
These are the people that possess marauding teenagers and/or canines, have loud parties with stadium sized speakers and/or steal from and generally destroy my property.
There are of course sub-groups within the main three categories.
There are the Road Nazi's for example. These are the people half way up the road that sunbathe in the very middle of it while wearing an iPod turned up on full thus are unable to hear you coming until you lose your patience and start honking. These are the same people who plant a large, bright neon green turtle shaped sign that is carrying a "Drive Slow" flag. They jump out and scream at you as you drive down the road despite the fact that you are going a full 10 km slower than the posted limit.
There are the obligatory and ever present Jet-Skiers. This sub-group falls under the heading of Completely Annoying, especially when several of them are doing water-donuts in front of your house and your front rooms are filling up with spent gasoline fumes. I tried, in vain, to organize a race to the bottom of Niagara Falls this year but I had no takers.
You know the Summer People... those people who surreptitiously relocate to cottage country every year. One day they are not here... the next day they are. They are easy to recognize.... they have every transportable possession in tow and more often than not this includes spare family members and/or copious amounts of alcohol. You very well may be one of these people and to you I mean no disrespect.
The majority of them are quite lovely and very friendly, for the most part. I tend to group them into three categories:
1. The Slightly Annoying
These are the people you hardly ever see and can't hear down at this end of the road and you need only nod and wave to as you drive by.
2. The Moderately Annoying
These are the people that occupy the immediate cottages around me.
3. The Completely Annoying
These are the people that possess marauding teenagers and/or canines, have loud parties with stadium sized speakers and/or steal from and generally destroy my property.
There are of course sub-groups within the main three categories.
There are the Road Nazi's for example. These are the people half way up the road that sunbathe in the very middle of it while wearing an iPod turned up on full thus are unable to hear you coming until you lose your patience and start honking. These are the same people who plant a large, bright neon green turtle shaped sign that is carrying a "Drive Slow" flag. They jump out and scream at you as you drive down the road despite the fact that you are going a full 10 km slower than the posted limit.
There are the obligatory and ever present Jet-Skiers. This sub-group falls under the heading of Completely Annoying, especially when several of them are doing water-donuts in front of your house and your front rooms are filling up with spent gasoline fumes. I tried, in vain, to organize a race to the bottom of Niagara Falls this year but I had no takers.
There are also the Music Lovers. These are the people that are 10 cottages away but want everyone to enjoy Celine Dion and Abba as much as they do. This group can fall under the Moderately Annoying or the Completely Annoying depending on their chosen volume level.
There are more but I think you get the idea.
So here I sit... patiently waiting for September 1st to come and go. By September 2nd I will be yet again enjoying the beautiful weather of sunny southern Niagara in sweet solitude and blissful quiet.
And then, by the time the Gales of November start.... I will be missing those damned Summer People after all.
There are more but I think you get the idea.
So here I sit... patiently waiting for September 1st to come and go. By September 2nd I will be yet again enjoying the beautiful weather of sunny southern Niagara in sweet solitude and blissful quiet.
And then, by the time the Gales of November start.... I will be missing those damned Summer People after all.
My Fat Ass Dress
I am so very lucky to be the recipient of many a bag of unwanted clothes. I am only too happy to adopt any wayward bags destined for the Salvation Army and gleefully sort through them to pull out tidbits worthy of saving for myself or my friends. I often keep more than I should but hey... they are easily packed up again and donated when you have tired of them piling up and never being worn.
I received several awesome bags full of summer clothing back in June of this year. How wonderful!!! Summer was coming and I needed some new stuff so the timing was perfect. The bags were "choice" as I told my mother later. Her friend Carole had given them to her and she has great taste and buys quality pieces. I kept nearly everything from these bags except for the odd piece that was too small for me.
One of the things I kept was a loose cotton t-shirt dress. Very plain, very basic but cool and comfortable and fine for around the house. I had never owned a t-shirt dress before because they are one of those pieces of clothing that is really only suited to the very thin. I have too many rolls and too bumpy parts on my body and let's face it... these straight cut dresses tend to show them all.
When I initially tried the dress on I noticed it was a bit big for me which, as far as I was concerned, was its only saving grace. Any smaller and the rolls and bumps would have been very noticeable and rendered the dress as yet another drawer hogger (as you well know... drawer hoggers are those pieces of clothing that you own and say you are going to wear but never ever do). As it was, I felt the dress slimmed me somewhat and might actually look good enough to wear in out in the general public.
By July, a scant month later, I had gained 5 lbs. Now 5 lbs is really nothing... is it not? Like, what is 5 lbs after all?
I had some friends down for the weekend and since it was very hot and muggy I slipped this dress on. It was the first time that I had worn it and they both commented on it saying it suited me and looked very comfortable.
Later that day we decided to go for a hike over at the Wainfleet Bog, a lovely nature preserve just 5 minutes from where I live. One of my friends brought her camera along in hopes of snapping some interesting pictures.
She did get some great shots that day and unfortunately, she also ended up with a life size shot of my fat ass dress.
Whoa you say! Just when did this doesn't-get-any-better-than-free t-shirt dress become My Fat Ass Dress?
When I saw my fat ass in full living colour on my friends Facebook page. That's when.
Good grief! It was huge and there it was. I had no idea my ass would look soooooo big in this dress but the evidence was quite obviously right in front of me. And of course I was tagged so everyone on her friends list could see (and what a large friends list it is... almost as large as my ass!).
When I had first tried it on I did a quick turn in the mirror and I didn't remember my ass looking like that.
I messaged her immediately and pleaded for her to remove the picture. She did, being the good friend that she is. (I was afraid she was going to torture me for a while but she didn't... thank you Marsha!)
Strangely enough, she was visiting me this past weekend and she mentioned that she showed the bog pictures to her boyfriend and the first thing he said was, "who is that chick with the fat ass?".
And here it is... the very next day and I go to my sky high pile of laundry baskets and there is my fat ass dress, sitting right on top. Unworn since the trip to the Wainfleet Bog and the whole Facebook fiasco. Sitting there forlornly... wondering when, if ever, it would be worn again.
I grabbed it and put it on. I figured what did I have to do today? I had to take my Grandmother over to the Seniors Center and pick her up after 2 hours. During those 2 hours I would pop over and visit my mother who was babysitting my nephew in town. Nobody of any consequence would see my fat ass.
As it turned out, after I dropped my Grandmother off, I stopped by to see my mom only to discover that she had taken Curtis to the play center in town and wouldn't be back for another 45 minutes or so.
I decided that it would be good to knock off the bank trip that I needed to make to Welland. It had to be done sometime this week and since I was already half way there I should take care of it now.
So up to the bank I went not really thinking about how my fat ass was out there. And it would have gone okay too except for bad timing.
As I stood at the teller, a wee boy of about 3 came in with his grandmother. There was only 1 teller open so they stood in the line up behind me. I was putting my wallet away and turning to leave when I saw the little boy and gave him a big smile.
He promptly smiled back and said,
"You have a big butt!!!"
Needless to say... the dress dies today.
I received several awesome bags full of summer clothing back in June of this year. How wonderful!!! Summer was coming and I needed some new stuff so the timing was perfect. The bags were "choice" as I told my mother later. Her friend Carole had given them to her and she has great taste and buys quality pieces. I kept nearly everything from these bags except for the odd piece that was too small for me.
One of the things I kept was a loose cotton t-shirt dress. Very plain, very basic but cool and comfortable and fine for around the house. I had never owned a t-shirt dress before because they are one of those pieces of clothing that is really only suited to the very thin. I have too many rolls and too bumpy parts on my body and let's face it... these straight cut dresses tend to show them all.
When I initially tried the dress on I noticed it was a bit big for me which, as far as I was concerned, was its only saving grace. Any smaller and the rolls and bumps would have been very noticeable and rendered the dress as yet another drawer hogger (as you well know... drawer hoggers are those pieces of clothing that you own and say you are going to wear but never ever do). As it was, I felt the dress slimmed me somewhat and might actually look good enough to wear in out in the general public.
By July, a scant month later, I had gained 5 lbs. Now 5 lbs is really nothing... is it not? Like, what is 5 lbs after all?
I had some friends down for the weekend and since it was very hot and muggy I slipped this dress on. It was the first time that I had worn it and they both commented on it saying it suited me and looked very comfortable.
Later that day we decided to go for a hike over at the Wainfleet Bog, a lovely nature preserve just 5 minutes from where I live. One of my friends brought her camera along in hopes of snapping some interesting pictures.
She did get some great shots that day and unfortunately, she also ended up with a life size shot of my fat ass dress.
Whoa you say! Just when did this doesn't-get-any-better-than-free t-shirt dress become My Fat Ass Dress?
When I saw my fat ass in full living colour on my friends Facebook page. That's when.
Good grief! It was huge and there it was. I had no idea my ass would look soooooo big in this dress but the evidence was quite obviously right in front of me. And of course I was tagged so everyone on her friends list could see (and what a large friends list it is... almost as large as my ass!).
When I had first tried it on I did a quick turn in the mirror and I didn't remember my ass looking like that.
I messaged her immediately and pleaded for her to remove the picture. She did, being the good friend that she is. (I was afraid she was going to torture me for a while but she didn't... thank you Marsha!)
Strangely enough, she was visiting me this past weekend and she mentioned that she showed the bog pictures to her boyfriend and the first thing he said was, "who is that chick with the fat ass?".
And here it is... the very next day and I go to my sky high pile of laundry baskets and there is my fat ass dress, sitting right on top. Unworn since the trip to the Wainfleet Bog and the whole Facebook fiasco. Sitting there forlornly... wondering when, if ever, it would be worn again.
I grabbed it and put it on. I figured what did I have to do today? I had to take my Grandmother over to the Seniors Center and pick her up after 2 hours. During those 2 hours I would pop over and visit my mother who was babysitting my nephew in town. Nobody of any consequence would see my fat ass.
As it turned out, after I dropped my Grandmother off, I stopped by to see my mom only to discover that she had taken Curtis to the play center in town and wouldn't be back for another 45 minutes or so.
I decided that it would be good to knock off the bank trip that I needed to make to Welland. It had to be done sometime this week and since I was already half way there I should take care of it now.
So up to the bank I went not really thinking about how my fat ass was out there. And it would have gone okay too except for bad timing.
As I stood at the teller, a wee boy of about 3 came in with his grandmother. There was only 1 teller open so they stood in the line up behind me. I was putting my wallet away and turning to leave when I saw the little boy and gave him a big smile.
He promptly smiled back and said,
"You have a big butt!!!"
Needless to say... the dress dies today.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Missing In Action
I have noticed over the last couple of months, with increasing alarm, that my underwear seem to have legs of their own and regularly go missing.
Now this is not a "lost sock in the dryer" kind of problem. This is a serious "where the fuck are my underwear" problem. Most worrisome is my favourite pair of underwear is now missing... they have taken a panty hiatus and I would really appreciate it if they would come back.
You know those underwear that seem to work magic around your mid-section and are comfortable to wear no matter what sort of outer clothes you have on? Those are the underwear that are gone and I really miss them. I have an important social engagement tonight and would like to have them along for the occasion.
Perhaps it is time (as I have been so threatening to do for months) to sort through all those piled up baskets of folded laundry and find them. I did a cursory check and they do not seem to be there. Nor do any other wayward pairs seem to be surfacing.
I did all my laundry this week and yet... I do not have a single pair of clean underwear.
So, after a more thorough check of the neglected laundry baskets, only one explanation is possible.
Aliens are stealing my underwear.
Yes, you read that right. I have given this a lot of thought and it is the only thing that makes any sense. Now I know you are laughing and say this is not possible but let me tell you... Lake Erie is a haven for UFO's. Being that it is now late August and UFO season is in full swing I have finally made the extraterrestrial connection.
As I sleep peacefully in my bed at night those scheming little grey men are hovering offshore somewhere, beaming my panties over to their spaceship. I don't know what sort of use they would have for my undergarments but there is obviously a pressing need or so many of them would not be missing. Perhaps they are some sort of emergency fuel or even some sort of exotic culinary treat. I surely do not know however I am certain other folks around here have the same problem but are too embarrassed to talk about it.
I don't have the first clue how to keep my poor panties from being purloined by aliens but I am well prepared to do a special "underwear only" load of laundry today. I have formulated a plan whereby they are washed and dried under the care of armed guards then painstakingly folded and wrapped in several layers of tinfoil to keep them safe from the alien beam. If this proves to be ineffective I may need to buy a lead-lined safe over at Canadian Tire.
Of course the only glitch in my theory is that my black body shapers sent me a postcard from Brighton, England the other day. I'm not sure how they got there... perhaps the aliens found they were not as combustible (or delicious) as cotton panties and dropped them off there for a vacation.
Now this is not a "lost sock in the dryer" kind of problem. This is a serious "where the fuck are my underwear" problem. Most worrisome is my favourite pair of underwear is now missing... they have taken a panty hiatus and I would really appreciate it if they would come back.
You know those underwear that seem to work magic around your mid-section and are comfortable to wear no matter what sort of outer clothes you have on? Those are the underwear that are gone and I really miss them. I have an important social engagement tonight and would like to have them along for the occasion.
Perhaps it is time (as I have been so threatening to do for months) to sort through all those piled up baskets of folded laundry and find them. I did a cursory check and they do not seem to be there. Nor do any other wayward pairs seem to be surfacing.
I did all my laundry this week and yet... I do not have a single pair of clean underwear.
So, after a more thorough check of the neglected laundry baskets, only one explanation is possible.
Aliens are stealing my underwear.
Yes, you read that right. I have given this a lot of thought and it is the only thing that makes any sense. Now I know you are laughing and say this is not possible but let me tell you... Lake Erie is a haven for UFO's. Being that it is now late August and UFO season is in full swing I have finally made the extraterrestrial connection.
As I sleep peacefully in my bed at night those scheming little grey men are hovering offshore somewhere, beaming my panties over to their spaceship. I don't know what sort of use they would have for my undergarments but there is obviously a pressing need or so many of them would not be missing. Perhaps they are some sort of emergency fuel or even some sort of exotic culinary treat. I surely do not know however I am certain other folks around here have the same problem but are too embarrassed to talk about it.
I don't have the first clue how to keep my poor panties from being purloined by aliens but I am well prepared to do a special "underwear only" load of laundry today. I have formulated a plan whereby they are washed and dried under the care of armed guards then painstakingly folded and wrapped in several layers of tinfoil to keep them safe from the alien beam. If this proves to be ineffective I may need to buy a lead-lined safe over at Canadian Tire.
Of course the only glitch in my theory is that my black body shapers sent me a postcard from Brighton, England the other day. I'm not sure how they got there... perhaps the aliens found they were not as combustible (or delicious) as cotton panties and dropped them off there for a vacation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)