December 17, 2004 at 3:42 pm (Soaping and Knitting)

I just got back from the mailbox–it's at the front of the property, my house is toward the back. So it's a short walk, almost like exercise, so I get a little ticked off when it seems like I have to pull fucking TEETH to get mail before darkness descends on the world. It's winter, so darkness does its descending before 5 pm most days. Tough. When I reserve a package pickup on the Net I get mail at 2 pm sharp–when I don't, it's late late late.

I hate that when I have StinkieMail coming.

The Mailbitch (I'm saving her for another rant) says she "luuuuuuuvs" the way my mail smells. I tell her it's because I can't buy most of the exotic, sensuous, niftoid stuff I put in things (like the occasional offerings I leave her) locally. This is partially true–there is what passes for a health food store in town and they do carry essential oils. Bad ones. Bad, expensive ones. So, screw them and I get mine from this great guy in Maryland. I can't get synthetic scents that are worth a shit anywhere in town. Sure, JoAnn and Michael's carries them but they're expensive and smell like flowered shit in good handmade soap. There are a few soapmaking suppliers within an hour's drive but with gas around $2/gallon here it's less expensive in the long run to order online.

So, I'm the recipient of a lot of StinkieMail–I have a few co-ops of folks online that I buy things from plus a few great regular suppliers. Since nearly all of them ship cheaply thru Priority Mail, those packages show up in the mailbox.

This week's mail was especially stinky–I got a bottle of something in on Monday, four pounds of scent in on Tuesday, a bottle yesterday, and today was nearly all StinkieMail: an ounce of Sweetgrass scent (with samples of Berry Peach, which isn't great, and Misty Rain, which rocks and is currently being skin-tested), an 8 oz bottle of Heather scent (I love it and it better rock in incense or I'm gonna be pissed), and NO JAV the Monkey Farts isn't in yet–it's coming Parcel Post.

By the way, the mailbox still has a light reek of Mulberry.


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