The 10 billionth Christmas catalog came this afternoon. Oooooooooh. All sorts of products are waiting out there for purchase. But I don't have any room in my home for new purchases. My home is already full of CATALOGs.
For every product you can imagine.
Trees (real and fake) Socks Toys Barometers Bunion pads Furniture Hardware (including floral patterned hammers) Fungicides Calendars (without squares to write information in. WTF?!?
and so on.
Those clothing catalogs have got me going though. If I purchase some of these items, I'll have a dang good time during the High Holidays of Consumerism.
I'll be just gorgeous hanging balls on a perfectly symmetrical tree. I'll be just stunning quaffing magnums of champagne (every third woman in this catalog is lifting a glass). If I purchase the above dress, I know I'll look just like this radiant reveler. (In truth, I'll look like a drunk with a faded tire around my neck.) That Soft Surroundings catalog makes the whole season look merry and bright. Just raise a glass, hang some balls, and be a beaming beauty with your purchases.
Champagne and balls not included. Void where prohibited. Frankly, lady (me), just wear that tired old skirt and pilled sweater that you wear every damn year no matter how many catalogs are shoved into your mailbox.
Now, I'm off to find some twine and tie up the 4,000 catalogs and set them out for the recycling truck.
I can't believe its only the middle of November. I've got a catalog hangover already.
I see myself as an artist. Others see me as a housewife. Too often, I see the glass as half-full. With a crack in it. I am usually a quiet, shy person. This is the place where I can be my inner, not-so-quiet self.
This blog is for entertainment (mostly mine) purposes only. If you find a mistake, falsehood, or blatant lie, please feel free to inform me, ever so gently, of my error.