Saturday, March 9, 2013

A box of bags

I had a real dilemma when I came home from work tonight.

There was a delivery box blocking the front door.  Anthony ordered a couple of bags (like the kind you sling over your shoulder and carry stuff around in) and they arrived a day earlier than expected.

I was under strict orders not to touch the box and if it came while I was home I was to send the delivery person to the apartment complex office with the package so Anthony could pick it up later.  I am not to be trusted with $700 in bags (you read that right, two bags, seven hundred dollars... he lives large).  Why would I be trusted?  I would have a difficult time resisting the urge to use them to wipe my butt or wear one as a hat.  That's the kind of person I am.  Ahem.

I had a decision to make.  I either had to leave the box outside in the rain and wind, or take the chance that Anthony would be angry that I touched it but bring it inside.

I decided to gamble and bring it inside.  I put it on the highest part of the kitchen counter.  It was wrapped in some plastic by the delivery company so I felt it had condom like protection and that protected the box from my grubby little paws.

I haven't seen these fancy bags yet, but for $350 bucks a piece they better do something besides hold things.  Like laundry or sexual favors.

The box of bags I wasn't supposed to touch.
I put some of Lucky's poo on the box as a surprise for Anthony.
Shhhh. Don't tell him.