When I moved to New York I brought my life with me in a Toyota Corolla. It was a crowded ride and there wasn’t room to bring luxury items. I liked the feeling of simplifying my life into such mobility; however, there were many possessions that I couldn’t part with. Mostly books, but also my painting supplies, movies, games, and notebooks (I still have a cedar chest and my old Barbie dolls tucked away in loved one’s garages, but this story isn’t about those items)
I left 4 boxes at my friend’s house for her to mail to me once I was settled into my apartment. I settled. She mailed. (I miss the days of the flat rate shipping for books and movies because a box full of books is EXPENSIVE!)
The last package she sent me was shipped over Christmas season. I opened the package excited for all of my books only to find a gift along with a few of my notebooks. You’d think I would be delighted to receive a gift from my friend for Christmas, but selfishly, I was not. I wanted my books. I kind of geek out for books and I really wanted to put them on my new bookcase and display my awesome collection.
I pulled myself together and decided to appreciate the thought she put into sending me a package, on used wrapping paper, written to someone named Alma. But I put it aside as I went out of town for Cmas. I called her to thank her for the gift and she was befuddled, “Um, your gift is here in my bag. Why would I mail it to you when I’m coming out to see you on the 27th?” Very funny. “No, seriously, I did not send you a present.”
As soon as I got home I ripped open the package and found more confusion. Enclosed were some weird ass letters to Alma and party food. I was perplexed and a little frightened. Where did this package come from? Where did my stuff go? And who the hell is Alma?
That’s not even the creepiest part. It’s not like my package was missing and I received this one instead. My notebooks and scrapbooks made it to me, but this bizarre gift was in place of my burning can (more on this later) and my painting supplies. How could I only be missing SOME of my belongings?
I will now summarize what I and Lorraine-from-the-post-office assume must have happened.
My sweet friend, in an effort to secure my package, loaded it up with tape. The post office takes heavily taped packages as a sign that the contents within the package must be suspicious. Why else would the culprit have gone to so much trouble to make it impenetrable? The U.S. Postal Service opens all suspicious packages. Mine and Alma’s packages must have been suspicious at the same time. On the same table. After they were both opened and the contents removed, the well intentioned, yet inadequate, package searchers were unsure as to whose property belonged in which box. They put the items back helter skelter and now I no longer count painting as one of my hobbies.
Either that or this is a huge practical joke in which case I want my painting supplies back!!