It may seem strange for me to admit this, but in this year of “I’m not going anywhere unless it’s absolutely necessary” I’ve taken to catalog shopping. Yes. I realize that I’ve griped and groused about the amount of catalogs that fill up my mailbox on a daily basis in korners of the past, but one can have a change of heart. I’ve decided to look at the multitude of catalogs in my mailbox as a good thing. They’re made of paper for one, and since we live in a paper mill town I deem paper to be good. While our own mill may not produce the paper catalogs are printed with someone does. That means someone has a job making the paper, someone has a job printing the catalog, someone has a job delivering it to my mailbox, someone has a job taking my order over the phone (or online as some cases may be), someone has a job putting what I’ve ordered into a box, someone has a job shipping that box and last but not least someone has a job delivering that box. Oh, I nearly forgot, some mills make cardboard so by purchasing things that come in boxes we’re keeping those folks employed too as well as though who provide the raw materials paper of all kinds is made of. I count at the very least 10 jobs of work for one tiny transaction, which offsets my guilt over less “in person” shopping. At least a little bit.

While it’s easy to “blame it on the coronavirus”, and I do, there are some annoying things re catalog shopping. A couple of them involve just three little words. Three little words I for one do not appreciate. The first set is “hand wash only”. Call me lazy, call me what you will, I do not like to hand wash anything bigger than a handkerchief (and no, I do not handwash any hankies at my house). I handwash all my dishes, right down to the pots and pans regardless of any stuck-on mess. I deem it handwashing when I clean the tub, the sink, the toilet and the bathroom floor. I handwash walls, switch plates and doorknobs (switch plates and doorknobs more so now than ever). That’s enough in the handwashing department for me. This is a long-held, deep-seated aversion. You will find nothing in my closet or dresser drawers that bears a handwash only tag so please, make no attempt to change my mind. I will not be seduced into handwashing by a cutesy top or a pair of perfectly cut trousers. Nope. Nada. Zip the thought.

The other three are a commonality to Christmas shoppers everywhere I would think. That’s right, the ruin of many a Christmas morning. It is the “batteries not included” tag. You missed it when you purchased the gadget or gizmo and thus were unprepared for when the gift was opened. If it needs batteries why for the love of God can they not be included? Life would be so much easier. Unfortunately, this one is more difficult to get around than the hand washing thing – so much of what clutters our lives requires batteries and so much of what requires batteries does not come with them included. *sigh*

I saw this handy-dandy little case advertised in several catalogs. It holds a bunch of various sized batteries all neat and tidy. A place for everything from AAA to D, with everything in its place. A coy little ploy for us to stock up on batteries that, but I’m not falling for it. I know by time I need the C or D cells they’ll all be dead as a hammer as most of our gadgets and gizmos require AA or AAA so those will be the ones we fly through more quickly. Why bother having a special place for dead batteries? They do fine in the bottom of the junk drawer.

Let me get through a limited seating Thanksgiving and the gun deer season before I count how many shopping days left ‘til Christmas, k? Thanks. And good luck to all. Be safe out there.

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