2 hours ago · Life · 0 comments

On Friday, I stupidly purchased a six-and-a-half-pound box of Poly-fil to stuff three sofa cushions because I am a terrible judge of volume. I had just finishing cramming the seat cushions back into their newly laundered covers (quite a feat — resembled sumo) when I heard it. A six-and-a-half-pound-box of Poly-fil landing on my porch with a mighty thud. I reluctantly retrieved my box cutters from the garage and approached the box, which was bowing out along the sides. As I approached it, I read the warning. the packing tape along the left side was already splitting I hate being startled. As a kid, I would run out of the room in the final seconds of a Perfection game. I approach a Pillsbury crescent roll tube with a spoon like I’m about to disarm a bomb. This message did not have me feeling great. To my relief, the box did not explode when I cut the tape. The filling was tightly compressed in a plastic bag, and the bag itself was wrapped in clear packing tape. Yes, it looks like a…

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