I recently received a box from my cousin Maggie (aka my dealer). I had been anticipating the arrival of this box, which contained My Precious, for many days, and every time she asked me, “Is it there yet? It should be!”, I’d re-check the mailbox, then have to walk back to my house, in a depressed state, since it was never there. Humph. (That’s a lie, I NEVER check my mailbox. Thankfully, my husband does. However, did you picture me walking across the street, with slumped shoulders, so disheartened that I didn’t care if I got hit by a car? Cuz that’s how I felt). The package took ages to reach me.
When I finally saw the box (on the kitchen counter, brought in by my husband), I felt the rush of serotonin, creating a chemical surge of happiness, while simultaneously imagining the sound of a trumpet (do do dah DOOO!), and envisioning an angel in front of me, the box cradled in her porcelain hands. Yes, I was that excited.
I tore that sucker open and tossed the box in the trash. I let Maggie know that I had finally received the package and she asked me how I liked the stickers. Stickers??? Hm. I didn’t notice any stickers? She laughed, and said, “Atta girl. You and I will be besties at The Betty“. But she thought I was kidding.
Curious about what she meant by “the stickers”, I went to the trash and plucked out the discarded vesicle. Sure enough, in my haste to get to the goods, I missed out on the embellishments decorating the package. When we go to France, to restock, I”ll have to pick some of these up as well, they’re pretty cute.