Box Spirals

Today it's one month since I started journaling to cope with my thought spirals. Have I gotten any better at identifying my triggers? Maybe. Have I gotten any better in a general sense? Doesn't feel like it. As if to celebrate the milestone, something phenominally-fucking-freaky just happened. So, here I vent.

I was chilling in my bed scrolling through Reddit, because this week I'm hopelessly addicted to r/TipOfMyTongue, when I heard this weird mechanical whirring outside. I peeked through the blinds just in time to see an actual delivery drone releasing a package onto my patio. Well, it's a patio in spirit. I live in a ground-floor apartment with a slab of concrete outside.

Anyway, a drone. I didn't even know they were really doing that. I've read that they've been thinking about it and testing it and stuff, but when did they roll out? It's not the drone that scares me though. Like, I'm generally in favor of automation. It enables the socially stunted among us to live more comfortably every year. And I do that weird childish thing where I think anything small that moves is a friend even if it's a robot.

So, cute drone and all but I didn't order anything this week. Usually packages come inside. FedEx, UPS, USPS all have keys or access to a key. When they don't, they buzz. Sometimes they buzz me even if the pacakge isn't for me. I'm in the lowest-numbered apartment. My door is actually in the lobby. I'm right by the mailboxes. Most people either don't see my door or they assume the property manager lives here, but it's me that lives here. But that's okay. Buzzing is fine. It makes me jump but all I have to do is press a button. I don't have to talk to anyone.

Now that we have delivery drones, that changes things. Drones aren't gonna be able to come inside. This is an entire apartment building full of people who order things. When the packages come inside, the logical place to put them is the mail room (if you don't feel like looking for the correct door). When the packages live outside... I guess, unfortunately, my open slab of concrete facing the street is pretty inviting.

That's so weird though! There's plenty of room in front of the actual front door. It's even recessed in a little ways. It's tucked away. That's a great place for a drone to leave a box. But people suck, and they don't always do the logical thing, and even if I put out a big sign that directed the drones to use the door and not my patio... People would take that as a challenge, actually. I'd have boxes all the time.

That could be interesting though. If a group of Internet people started trolling me by send drone-delivered packages to my patio, what would they send? How heavy a box can a drone carry? Wait, those aren't important questions right now. I need to figure out this box, right here, right now. It's time for some reconnaissance.

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I stared at the box for a minute or two. Then I took some pictures so I could stare at it somewhere else. The box is definitely addressed to me, and that's good. It means I don't have to conduct a re-delivery mission. If that were the case though I guess I could just move it to the lobby and wait for someone to notice. No reason for me to find out what the rest of the building looks like.

But, the box is for me. Since it's from Amazon, there's nothing on the label to indicate who ordered whatever is in the box. I took a look through my order history to make sure I didn't order something and forget it. I've heard that people do that, like, a mysterious Amazon box will show up and they'll tweet about it like, "lol look it's the replica Master Sword I ordered at 2 a.m. three weeks ago when I was plastered." I don't do that though. There's so much anxiety build-up to every purchase, I don't just click "add to cart" with reckless abandon.

I guess the easiest way to find out what's going on is to just bring it in and open it. This is uncomfortable. I don't really want to. I don't think there's anything bad or dangerous inside or anything like that. I just really don't like unexpected developments like this. I wish I could just leave it there and maybe it would go away. ... Actually, that would probably work. Porch pirates are running rampant this time of year and I live pretty close to downtown. But I shouldn't be encouraging that kind of behavior, and for all I know there could be something really cool in that box.

This whole thing is disrupting my day and I don't like it. I keep checking my phone to see if anyone drops me a note, like, "hey I sent you something!" I've even sent a couple messages asking for a confession. I suppose it could just be from my mom, but she doesn't usually drop surprise-bombs on me. She knows how I am. If this turns out to be a gift from someone who should have known better, I'm gonna have to exercise my frowny-face muscles at them.

I totally realize that the sooner I bring the box in and open it, the sooner I can move on, but this whole thing is making me kind of tired, and I'm not one to fight my brain when it demands a nap. So, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to take a nap, and if the box is still there when I wake up, which it probably will be, I'll go ahead and open it. Cool beans.

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I'm back. It was one of those naps that leaves you feeling like a truck was parked on your face for the duration. The box is still here. In fact, it's right here. I brought it in and it's on the table in front of me. In front of us. It's not heavy. It only makes a little noise when shaken. I've downed a sugar-free Rockstar to wake up and prepare my brain for this moment. I'm opening the box.

It's yarn.

That's great, I love yarn. But since this is an Amazon package, there's no packing slip. I have no idea who sent this yarn or why. It could be literally anyone that knows me. Everyone knows I love to crochet. I suppose yarn is one of the best possible things that could have been in this box. This yarn isn't terribly expensive, so I don't have to feel too deeply indebted to whoever bestowed this yarn upon me. If it were a video game or something, that would require a much bigger display of gratitude, and I'm of the generation who doesn't do "thank you" cards.

I think I've got it, though. The best way to solve this mystery is to take a selfie with the yarn, put it on Facebook, and be like, "Who sent this? omg I love it! Thank youuuu!" Someone will own up to it. Probably. And then I can put this ordeal behind me and move on with my life until the next unexpected thing. Selfie powers, activate!

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Hey, it's been a couple of days, but I guess this deserves an ending. The yarn was from my mom. She had no idea delivery drones were a thing, either. Surprises all around. It was a little anticlimactic to finally get the answer, but sometimes I like it that way. I didn't need to spend any more emotional energy in the wake of such an answer. When I look back over the hundreds of words I spent on this experience, it doesn't seem worth it, you know? I guess that's what my therapist has been trying to help me realize by putting the thought-spirals on paper. Just reading it again made me tired. Well, thanks for being here. Until next time.