I am almost totally and completely moved into my new place, although I have yet to really commence the monumental task of unpacking anything that has been moved in. As is true with most people, I’m assuming, moving always has an underlying reward of simultaneously being a treasure hunt. Or maybe, since you’re not really looking at anything, you really just stumble upon things, it should be called a “treasure find.”
Even though I have moved way too many goddamn times in the last three years (seven times, in case you’re curious), I have never once moved without the benefit of some quality “treasure finding.” This is my most recent find:
See, about, oh, I don’t know… anytimeinthelastyearortwoorsinceiwasborn, I told my mom I was feeling kind of stressed. Since my mom is somewhat of a new wave star child (love ya, mom!), she sent me a very nice care package which, knowing my mom, probably contained some of the following items:
- A hand-written note,
- some article of clothing, maybe socks,
- a trinket of hers which she had decided she no longer wanted but thought I might enjoy,
- pictures of her if she had taken a trip recently (like vacation, not like LSD), and, of course,
- some hippie potions/pills
I’m sure I use the clothing, I’m sure I ate the chocolate, I’m sure I saved the pictures, I’m less sure that I saved the note (but that doesn’t mean I didn’t!), but I only yesterday re-discovered the hippie potion. I pulled it out of its hiding spot and started reading the packaging. “Trusted for over 70 years in 66 countries,” and “…suitable for vegans,” and “Made in England.” I wondered if Amy or Laura had ever heard of “Bach: Original Flower Essences.”
The package, as you can see in the above-photo, lists the ingredients and their purported skills at managing your life. Shit, mang, I’m gonna name my KID Clematis – HELPS GIVE YOU FOCUS WHEN YOU ARE NOT GROUNDED IN REALITY. Maybe the kid will be named “Clematis ‘CHECK YOSELF’ Corbett.” Ha. Who am I kidding? I don’t want a kid.
In any case, I keep reading – and laughing, because seriously, folks, even if this flower power spray works, those folks over in marketing sure did elect to go the Rancho Rajneesh route with the descriptions! – and all of a sudden, the REAL treasure find is complete.
You know why this shit works? (maybe) maybe it has something to do with the inactive ingredient of 27% alcohol. Inactive my ass. God bless you, Bach. All of you.