Please Sign Here (I Have a Package for You)

I’m a delivery addict. I have other kinds of addictions, too, but this is the most appropriate one to blog about.

I want to blame it on Amazon Prime for making it soooo darn easy to tap my phone screen and get a “prize,” but I’m sure there are millions of Prime members who know how to control themselves. Instead, I’m going to blame it on Mr. Rogers. That sweet, kind, warm, gentle man never got overly excited by anything.

…EXCEPT when Mr. McFeeley rang the bell.

Oh my! Such a thrill when Mr. McFeeley would briskly enter the Rogers’s home with his latest speedy delivery! What did Mr. McFeeley have in his box today? A penny whistle? A turtle? Tickets to the Red Sox? (I don’t think he ever delivered Red Sox tickets, but I didn’t see every episode, so I don’t know for sure.)

Seeing those packages arrive, delivered by such an efficient and professional postal carrier really got my motor running. I wanted a speedy delivery, too.

I’ve taken to online-ordering every single thing that I don’t want to carry home from the grocery store. That includes multi-packs of Charmin, cases of sparkling water, a pack of gum, and more organizational supplies than I’ll bet you knew existed. (I really really want to be an organized person. So far, however, the organizational supplies generally sit in a corner mocking me.) The best thing to get delivered to your house, though, is kitty litter. That stuff weighs a ton. It’s a virtual miracle – practically magic — that they’ll just drop it at my door.

I’ve taken it too far, though.

Now, I’m tying my level of happiness to the package waiting on the steps. God forbid there’s nothing there. It sends me into a depressive spiral.

The other day I was on Facebook, and I came across an ad for an interactive video chat, treat dispenser, aromatherapy, game, and pet-to-parent messaging system.

PetChatz
(I added the link in case, unlike me, you don’t have to start a GoFundMe page in order to purchase these.)

I can’t honestly figure out if I want this as badly as I think I want it. I mean, really, how fun would it be to have your pets call you at work so you can dispense a treat for them? Right? I did share it with my daughters, because I love to have them revel in my total craziness.

I sent them the picture above with the caption “MUST HAVE.”

The eldest wrote back and said, “Hahahahaha.”

The youngest (and only one left living at home with me) wrote and said, “Oh my God. This is too much. But I’m sure that Mom will have an Amazon Prime box arrive within 2 business days with this in it.”

I laughed out loud at my desk. All by myself. She knows me really well.

I should end this post with some kind of lesson about “going minimalist” or “not needing things to make you happy” or “getting control of your spending before it controls you,” but I’m not ready. And, after all, the first step is admitting that you have a problem. √

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