Do you get as much junk mail and as many catalogs as I do? I probably toss two pounds of former trees into the recycling every day. I'm not exaggerating. I get Country Curtains and Victoria's Secret, Heifer International and Luxury Home International. What could possibly be the common demographic between those catalogs? I don't own a luxury home in France in which I sit at my desk in my naughty underwear to review my tax deduction for donating a heifer to a needy peasant, and then part the gingham curtains slightly to admire my expansive estate.
I get catalogs from companies I've never heard of. For that matter, I get catalogs for people I've never heard of, but they seem to have my address. Maybe they live in the garage; I haven't been in there for a while.
Luckily, I've found a site called Catalog Choice on which I'm notifying company after company that I don't want their catalogs. I haven't seen the results yet, but here's hoping. And once the election's over, I suppose the tide of flyers and miscellaneous propaganda will stop. I've received ballot recommendations from some pretty polar sources. I want to know where half these groups got my name. And I mean that: the half I don't agree with. They obviously don't know me.
And why do vegetables go bad in our crisper bins at the speed of light? It's as though as soon as I place the newly purchased avocados in the bin and slide the door shut, they've turned to brown mush in an armadillo-hard rind. What's the window of opportunity on making guacamole: a minute and a half?
If you get a frantic phone call from me at 10:00 a.m. yelling "Quick, buy some corn chips stat and get the hell over here!!" you'll know I just opened the vegetable drawer and realized I had to whip up some guacamole pronto or toss another avocado in the compost. My husband and I should just take bowls to the grocery store and toss a salad in the produce section because by the time we get the lettuce and herbs home, they've already passed over to veggie heaven.
And another question: why does anyone ever need to launder bath towels? Bath towels are used exclusively to dry our freshly bathed or showered bodies. How does a towel with that job ever collect dirt or get smelly? It doesn't make any sense. They only soak up clean water on a clean body. Wash cloths I understand, their job is wiping the dirt off; but bath towels are just for water. How do they mysteriously get so rank?
Now you know what causes the furrows in my forehead. Embarrassing, isn't it? Maybe I should send for a therapy catalog, or buy a copy of Hints from Heloise so I can learn how to freshen my towels, and how to re-crisp my lettuce between pages of my latest Orvis Fly Fishing catalog.