Returning things can involve a long process
I must have looked at the big blue empty vase on my desk at work a hundred times or more since it had been delivered.
And with every glance came great guilt.
What’s wrong with me that I can’t return things in a timely fashion, I’ve asked myself every time my good intentions to do so have gone sour, unfulfilled, put off yet again for yet another day.
I’ll think about that another time, I keep telling myself, the Princess of Procrastination when it comes to doing some simple stuff in my life.
My personal return policy sounds like the lyrics from the song from “Annie” — “Tomorrow……Tomorrow…..I’ll return that….tomorrow….it’s only a dayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy awayyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”
Or in my case, maybe many weeks or maybe many moons, whichever is lengthier.
It had been a long time since my flower-bearing, major green-thumb friend Edna had made her annual trip to the newsroom to bring me this gorgeous bouquet of dahlias straight from her very own gardens.
And that’s grounds for a major fuss all in itself. Never mind that Edna’s visit involved a 28-step ascent to the newsroom, all the while lugging one heck of a vase containing one heck of a beautiful display of dahlias.
I parked the vase on the newsroom island to brighten the workplace environment, for everyone to oooh and ahhh over, which we did.
But the inevitable day arrived. The petals began their descent to the island countertop and floor. Suddenly, there was a whole lot of wilting going on. The dahlias were in decline.
I dumped the contents of the vase, cleaned it and the decorative marbles in its base. And I made myself a mental note to buy a thank-you card and return Edna’s vase.
Then it became a written note that never got scratched off my tortuous to-do list.
I did finally buy the card, even jotted a message in it, priding myself on my progress.
I put it on my desk next to the vase.
And there they stayed, so long they actually needed dusted.
Aren’t I a sad, sorry excuse for an appreciative, responsible adult, I scolded myself every time I looked at the vase and card. I wondered if I should shop for an accompanying “Sorry-for-the-delay” card.
I don’t know why it’s so hard to return things, I apologized to Edna. It’s not just a vase thing either. I hold many things hostage that don’t belong to me with good intentions of them being rightfully reunited with their owners.
Books. Clothes. Plastic containers. Some with lids even.
I think it’s probably rebellion against deadline pressure. Or utter laziness. I can’t be sure.
I’ll think about that another time.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted email@example.com.)