Boxes.

We rented a U-Haul on Friday to carry back all of our furniture from Bombay Company. There were 9 boxes total -- our chair and ottoman, two large mirrors, bookshelves, curvy dresser with marble top...



We unpacked a few items on Saturday, in a rush before Nicole the housecleaner came. We hauled the boxes out and dumped them next to the recycling bins.

Yesterday I go to check my mail and I see a typed note stapled to the wooden beam above the mailboxes:

   Our dumpsters are a mess!
   Boxes must be flattened!
   Boxes must be cut to fit in the recycling bins!
   Professional cleaners must be informed of the rules!
   Take responsibility for your boxes!!

"I wonder if that's a response to my boxes," I think to myself. "Okay, I'll remember for next time."

I sort through my mail and go to recycle the junk mail. When I get to the recycling bins, I see my boxes scattered all about, as I'd left them. They are large and heaped above, next to, and between the recycling bins.

I start to break them down, rip them so that they fit.

"Well, at least no one knows it was me," I think.

Then I see the packing slip on every box:

"Bombay Company.  
Ship to: Niniane Wang
         XXX Central Ave"