We get a lot of junk mail and credit card solicitations. So I sort through them and shred sensitive stuff and recycle everything else.
Early this week I had collected a rather impressive pile of stuff to shred. In a matter of minutes I'd done something very wrong.
Shredder: GRRR!Me: Uh oh.
Deeps: What did you do?
Me: I'm just shredding!
Deeps: You can't put a whole piece of mail through there - you have to open stuff up!
Me: I thought it could handle it.
Shredder: Choke! Sputter!Me: Aw frick.
Deeps: We don't have an industrial shredder.
Me: I think I've done it before.
Deeps: That was the last shredder. Which you broke.
Me: Oh.
Deeps: I don't even think we can get a shredder that would work for you. I think you'd need some kind of feral cat.
Me: Feral cats shred stuff and leave a mess. I'd need a goat.
Deeps: A feral goat?
Me: I'll accept any goat. That would be an excellent anniversary present.
Deeps: No.
Me: Yeah! Five years of marriage totally equals one goat.
I bought a non-industrial shredder a few hours later. It joins another new friend that really sucks and rhymes with bison (hat tip to
Kristen).
Labels: 2007, consumerism, marriage
By: Alyssa | Sunday, March 04, 2007 at Sunday, March 04, 2007 | | 
Today, we take the plunge to buy new bedroom furniture. We are grown-ups. We own property. I just paid a huge property tax bill. I guess we're probably ready to have a dresser that isn't old, broken, and the best thing I could afford in 1998.
My husband agreed with this sentiment like four months ago when he pointed out that one of the dresser drawers wasn't opening right. Then he tried to "fix it" and things haven't gone well since.
We discussed our furniture options. At the time we didn't have a lot of choices. At least w in the Midwest the options were either very high end or very cheap. There wasn't a lot of middle of the road. I had no idea furniture and politics had so much in common.
When we were in Chicago we had a hard time finding stuff we could afford. So Ikea helped a lot. I think they have nice things - but we're ready for something that isn't flat packed.
Of course, flat pack would solve a lot of our problems. We live in an old house - now a townhouse - but once a single family home. This place clocks in at about 120 years old. Walls are uneven, hallways are narrow and closets are more implied than actually realized. Good storage is important and how to haul that furniture up three flights of stairs to our bedroom is the big dilemma.
Deeps went window shopping in lots of locations. I gave him a budget to work with - since I wasn't especially inclined to endure the hard sell of desperate furniture sales folk. He's immune to them because he'll pretend he doesn't speak English - or any language they could possibly know. It's one of his super powers.
After a few weeks he told me about something he saw that he thought I'd like. We drove to the store and took a look. We measured the door, the hallway, the other hallway, the little weird part at the top of the stairs where the hallway actually gets more narrow.
We thought we could make it work. Done. Sold. We'd just wait for a sale.
Those stupid furniture people must have been on to my plan because there was never a sale! No Halloween sale (which I'll admit, didn't surprise me), no Thanksgiving Sale, no Christmas Sale, no After-Christmas sale, and no New Year's Sale. The stuff we wanted never went on sale.
Not only am I buying stuff - but I'm paying retail? You've got to be kidding me! My husband has been very patient about this. He and I alternate playing the role of "let's just get this over with" and "let's see how this plays out."
He's been ready to pull the proverbial trigger since October. I've been holding him off until today.
I told him last night we could buy everything today. He was quietly pleased.
"Good," he said. "But we have to do it - because now that furniture is dead to me."
Labels: 2007, consumerism, filler, marriage
By: Alyssa | Saturday, January 06, 2007 at Saturday, January 06, 2007 | |
I cleaned the living room yesterday - okay, I put some stuff away and used the Hoover. I should totally get a medal or something.
I was actually inspired by the
ApartmentTherapy Fall Color contest which is underway. While my living room isn't quite as fancy as the rooms pictured in the contest we're still very happy with the wall color. We got lucky - it's soothing in the summer and refreshing in the winter. If only I'd been so good with the office color. Next time, color wheel. Next time!
Labels: 2006, consumerism, house
By: Alyssa | Tuesday, October 24, 2006 at Tuesday, October 24, 2006 | |
Yesterday we decided to look at storm doors for the house. I’m starting to come to terms with the idea that we’re going to be homeowners soon. It’s weird, but you know – what isn’t?
So we looked at storm doors that had a screen to get some nice cross-ventilation going on the first floor since we don’t have the Central AC (we got so close on that other place, that had the Jacuzzi tub and steam shower – but its best not to dwell). And I found out the guy we’re hiring to paint can also install the door – bonus.
After we looked at doors, light fixtures, other doors, windows, trees, patio furniture, Tyvek house wrap, and about 400 other things Deeps announced he was “starving.”
“Are you up for questionable mall food?” he asked.
“Is the Pope Catholic?” was my response.
He picked the place close by - a Tex Mex joint that looked like it might be part of a chain. I’d never heard of it and even now the name totally escapes me. I suppose that’s my body’s way of coping.
We sat down and were quickly served by some woman and her protégé, Jeff. “He’s training,” she said as she tossed some tortilla chips on our table.
“Hi,” was all Jeff could muster with a wave. Jeff, you make me feel very, very old.
We ordered some different stuff and it became clear after food started arriving that we’d be eating a completely breaded/battered fried meal. Now where I come from, Indiana, this isn’t totally unusual. In a holdover from the days of farming (there are still farmers – but not everyone is a farmer) the meals are on the large side. You needed a lot of fuel to do that work.
I can recall stopping at a truck stop in northern Indiana on our way back to Chicago after visiting my parents in Indianapolis. Deeps ordered a turkey sandwich which came on a double skillet platter, open-faced, on Wonder bread, with mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey and all covered – the entire plate – with weird yellow gravy.
“Do people need to eat like this everyday?” he whispered over the giant mound of food.
Not really, not anymore. I don’t know any farmers anymore. The closest I know to a farmer is my father – when he gets a load of aged horse manure from a neighbor and shovels it into the flower beds.
But I digress. I’ve eaten this kind of food before – but I’ll admit that age and certain lifestyle choices have afforded me a certain luxury in choice. I choose not to eat food like this very often. And now I know why.
We ate, slowly, chatting and laughing and commenting on the friedness and oooh how we’ll pay later. I don’t think either of us felt like we’d really pay.
But we did.
Towards the end of the meal, Deeps complained that his “gut is starting to revolt already.” Apparently the man with the iron stomach is a big baby. That’s what I thought. Until after we got the check and I got to the car.
“Oh God, it’s like a brick in my stomach,” I whined. We drove home and I headed for the bathroom to take some Tums.
At some point I made it horizontal on the bed. I was feeling pretty nauseous and my head was starting to hurt. I think I fell asleep. When I woke up about 25 minutes later I felt like I’d just come out of a night of hard, hard, hard drinking.
Hard – like the worst hangover ever. I was kind of clammy and my head was pounding. The crappy Tex Mex food was kicking my ass. I thought if I made myself sick I’d feel better. No such luck. I prayed for a quick death.
About 8 hours later I started to feel normal. But that questionable meal decision took more out of me than I dared to acknowledge. I’m too old to eat like that – and now that I know how I’ll feel afterwards, I don’t expect I’ll try that again.
I’ll have the salad next time – and please hold the bacon (sometimes they try to sneak that into your salads in Indiana).
Labels: 2005, consumerism, food
By: Alyssa | Monday, May 02, 2005 at Monday, May 02, 2005 | |
I found this
SherpaBlog about ads and marketing. I appreciate the weirdly scientific arena of marketing. Sherpablog is where a semi-savvy consumer can go to get really freaked out. I love that stuff...
But I'm starting to hate all the weird marketing that's being directed at me. I've gotten three large, 4-color cardstock flyers for some kind of prescription medication that one would take if seriously afflicted with foot fungus.
Excuse me? My feet are fungi free. What the hell list did I get on that some marketing genius thinks I've got stank feet?
Deeps says it's a lifestyle medication. A) Huh? B) What lifestyle does someone think I'm living that I have foot funk?
Is no place sacred?A few weeks ago we had primaries in Illinois. I got a flyer in the mail supporting a Democratic candidate for judge. The weird part -- the flyer came from my gym. Well, it allegedly came from my gym. The return address is listed as a place that isn't my gym. I don't know who the woman is that is addressing me "on behalf of your friends at the EAC" and I don't recall giving my gym permissing to sell my contact information.
I was not that ticked about it but the more I think about it the more annoyed I get. Where's my privacy policy?
And to add insult - my number must be in very heavy rotation for the giant list that telemarketers have. I've been averaging more than a dozen calls a night all week. Ugh.
Labels: 2002, consumerism
By: Alyssa | Monday, April 01, 2002 at Monday, April 01, 2002 | |
I've become a hyper-aware consumer. Well -- I've become a hyper-aware consumer in a really odd way.
I'm far, far too aware of what my criteria is for purchasing almost any product. And I spend far too much time figuring out what said criteria is and then I figure out what that criteria says about me as a person.
Part of this awareness I blame on my experience researching retail and consumer products. I got to log way too many hours at Sapient going through old research about women and their relationship(s) with hair care products. I think the other part is influenced by my upbringing -- I blame my frugal midwestern parents. They drilled into my head that I should really know what I'm getting when I buy something.
If you were to meet me, you'd never guess I could be so neurotic.
Labels: 2002, consumerism
By: Alyssa | Wednesday, February 27, 2002 at Wednesday, February 27, 2002 | |
