Or are you afraid of it?
Well, chances are I got it on Craigslist…or at Ross.
Although I have come to think of my home as “the house that Craigslist built,” I must admit I draw the line on certain things – dishes, pillows, towels, sheets – and that’s where Ross comes in.
Let’s get real: Ross in a lowbrow store.
It’s somewhere between a rummage sale and Goodwill and the lamest stuff on clearance at Pier One…and yet somehow here in Maui it’s kind of an awesome store. Maybe it’s the desperate nature of retail here in general. Everything comes on a boat, so if you need it, want it, or just plain like it, you’d better buy it now…because God only knows when or if it will ever be stocked again. This rule applies for Wal-mart, Costco, you name it; but it is especially pertinent at Ross.
Add to the desperation the typical randomness found at any Ross, and throw a healthy dash of really dreadful inventory (whether someone is specifically to blame or if the Ross headquarters figures they’ll just ship the “unsellables” to Maui knowing damn well we have no other good options is an unknown) and I freaking love the place. It’s like a museum of WTF…and I for one, cannot get enough WTF in my life.
Consider the following:
These horrible pillows. All I can say is ‘wow.’
No one should own – let alone pay good money – for such atrocities, and yet somehow the store is carrying at least 20 of the polka dotted ones. That takes balls. Or sheer madness.
Looking in the “electronics” area, I was not terribly surprised to find a dozen mitted ice scrapers. It’s December. It’s Maui. It’s 82 here every day. We need ice scrapers like we need a hole in the head. But maybe insanity is contagious because once again, I find myself charmed.
This I actually plan to buy, if only for the typo. The recipient of such splendor has already been identified…I’m just hoping the catastrophe goes on clearance, as $9.99 is too rich for my blood.
Of course, Santa needs to take care of herself. No more boring Kool Aid out of a pitcher for me!
Lastly, keep your opinions of this treasure to yourself. Whether it’s some kind of subliminal messaging or an early symptom of Island Fever, I bought this baby. All five feet of her can currently be found hanging over my bed.
What can I say?
I blame it on Ross.
