spastic hell printer must die

Precious Gifts

The chronicles of my transformation into a recycling bin:

When I first moved into my tiny studio apartment on Capitol Hill I did not possess thing one, other than my clothes, a few books and a guitar. The first few weeks involved some disturbing revelations. There were many last minutes runs to Fred Meyer for things like can openers and a shower curtain, sponges, dish rack, etc. The helpful people from my office began offering whatever they had lying around. First my intrepid and illustrious boss-man gave me a stool/table thing and a jar of peanut-butter. Then came the deluge: box spring and mattress, bath mat, dish rags, microwave, curtain and offers of couches from everywhere.

Since then things have tapered off. I'm now quite comfortable even without a tv set. However, my boss continues to shower me with totally random bits of equipment. It started up again with a 5-disk changer, a fabulous gift, but better if it comes with a receiver. I do not have a receiver. There are no available speakers in my apartment. But I do have a lonely 5-disk changer sitting on the floor taking up room and collecting dust.

Next, a salt and pepper shaker set shaped like a dog and doghouse. Very cute, I like dogs, but the doghouse is missing the cork to seal it off and in the amount of time it would take me to go out and find a cork that fits I could easily steal 4 salt and pepper shaker sets from any restaurant in town.

So today he walks up with a plastic bag and says something about his continuing effort to supply me with electronic gear:

Boss-Man: Here. I'm giving you a cordless phone. Take it home with you because you know how I hate clutter.
Me: Thanks alot, but um, I don't have phone service in my apartment. I just use my cell.
B-M: That's not my problem.

So I thought about selling it on e-bay but eventually just gave it to Andrea. The B-M is now offended. And I think my head may explode.