I’ve been unpacking all week. A friend made fun of me for having a box labeled, “Books: Contemporary American Literature Box 3 and Export Commodities.”
Here’s another, “Clothes to be revisited box 2.” Still not sure what I was going for with that.
I always tell myself I want things like the perfect toilet brush or silverware without plastic handles. But moving in always seems to require the same mass immigration of stuff. I bought the plastic blue one because it was three dollars cheaper than the metal one.
You’d think packing up everything you own into many small oddly labeled boxes would make you reconsider buying random stuff.
It doesn’t.
Today, I bought a wooden spoon. My roommate bought a lacquer platter with an old map of Cyprus on it.
It’s for the bathroom. We keep our hand soap on it.
