by MustBTVDay twenty-one of furlough. I woke up at 0515, earlier than necessary and far too early for someone still technically “not working.” My alarm didn’t even go off, my body just decided it was time to act like I had a meeting to prepare for. The only meeting on my calendar? Me, caffeine, and logistics.
Starbucks coffee in hand, I began assembling the day’s objectives. High on the list: Amazon Returns. Again. It’s becoming less of a task and more of a ritual, the ongoing process of undoing the optimism of online shopping. Each box represents a lesson learned, usually about measuring tape, color accuracy, or my inability to resist “limited-time deals.”
Remington watched me stack the boxes by the door with quiet confusion, as if to say, “Didn’t we just do this?” She’s right, the cycle continues. Mittens inspected each package like a customs officer, and Tabby claimed the largest one as a nap site until it was time to leave.
The Family CFO approved today’s outing under one condition: no replacements. I agreed verbally, but we both know there’s always a risk. Amazon’s return counter is dangerously close to temptation, and I have the self-restraint of a toddler in a toy aisle.
Morale check: strong. Coffee effective, boxes packed, pets accounted for. The Living Room Republic mobilizes once more, Operation Return Redux is underway.
