Breaking The Box


It’s flu season. Ah-Choo! Well, at least -according to the commercials- they’re telling us drones to stock up on tissues and cold medicines because flu season is coming. I rarely, if never, get sick AND I don’t buy those over-hyped, over-the-counter medicines. Makes me queasy. Am I looking a little pale? I won’t take prescription crap either. Makes me nauseas. Oh, no, just a lovely shade of green. Thanks for noticing. Wink. Wink. Unless its birth control. Be smart ladies. But, there’s an extremely logical reason for that, in my opinion. No Babies! If you look in my medicine cabinet, you will just find Bath & Body Works lotions and sprays. yes, glitter sprays. And maybe a glue stick. I don’t know. One day the glue stick made its way into the bathroom and decided to take shelter.  Back to the point… I’m a little bit obsessive-compulsive about how I keep my house. I want it neat. I want it orderly. Okay… sure, there is the occasional mess; But, for the most part, I keep it magazine-styled.  Slowly, getting to the point here… 

Back to the tissue box. Sniffles. So, I bought one of those multi-packs of tissue boxes. You know, the decorative ones for the home that you toss out (or recycle) when your finished with them? Right. So, I have it on my mantle and it looks super adorable. It’s blue and purple with a swirly design on them and oversized water droplets. I just want to hug it. So, last night, my eyes kept watering from this stupid mascara that I bought a while ago (I really need to dump it but I hate wasting money, and it makes my lashes look pretty amazing) but the mascara flakes off into my eyes. I think I’m allergic to it too because my eyes will water for no apparent reason throughout the day while I’m sporting this glop. One day the right eye will ooze tears. That evening just the left. Go figure. Damn allergies. And when my eye waters for no reason, it starts to sting. Stupid stinging mascara. That should be the name of the brand. For that bee sting-like feel. So, I get up and grab a tissue and it rips. Only putting a little more than a 3/4 sheet in my hand. I don’t know why there is a bundle of sheets trying to come out of the box too… so, I sort of, just casually… walk away… with my 3/4 page of tissue. 
My son walks up on the box and before he even goes for a sheet… Hey, whats going on with the tissues in this box? I look around the room… whistling. Like, it wasn’t me. It was me. And I didn’t hear him. Three feet away. I heard him. I have that bat-hearing flow. And he pulls out the little strip that was missing from my recently pulled sheet and hands it to me. Um, thanks. I know it was you, here’s you’re missing piece. It’s not mine. It’s yours. Let me see you’re sheet. No. I’m giggling now. I’m a bad liar. He’s chuckling. And take note… *I’m not like those fake, bad liars who are really -actually -great at lying and manipulating; But a bonafied, truth-telling AND finding, kind of bad liar. He pulls out that big clump of tissues that was trying to escape earlier on me and hands me those with a smile. Take these too. Obviously, you broke the box. Fine, cardboard superhero. I broke the tissues. But at least the box is still in tact. And will make a nice drawer organizer later… 

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