We finally got the main shipment of our possessions. Our clothes, furniture, pictures, bikes, files, towels, pots, pans, silverware, plates, knick-knacks, shoes, etc. Everything. Alarmingly icy from a long journey across the ocean in a big metal container, and surprisingly intact. Only one broken item, the blue foot of Jessica’s Galapagos booby, cruelly broken off.
We were ambivalent about receiving the shipment. We had gotten strangely attached to our one or two levels down from Ikea black and white rental furniture and no nonsense appliances and utensils that had no decorative or sentimental value, and also to the simplicity of living with just what we needed. We started to forget what was in the shipment that totaled over 200 items with furniture and boxes combined – what did we possibly need? And what would we now have to organize, arrange, rearrange, dust, hang, buy things to display them on, etc?
Before leaving the U.S. we had followed some friends’ advice and went on a Costco run to stock up on American staples, such as Cheerios, mac n’ cheese, paper towels, ketchup, and yes, toilet paper. After just four weeks, my bottom is not happy with the infamous European sand paper they sell as TP over here. At the grocery I searched out the most luxurious and cushiony brand. I read the words “Deluxe” on one package and then settled on what appears to be the universal symbol for soft toilet paper: A picture of a puppy.
The puppy paper was definitely better than the other brands we tried, but it’s got nothing on Costco’s Kirkland TP. It’s not Charmin UltraSoft,but it is truly puppy-soft compared to the Swiss stuff. Finally, toilet paper my and my family’s backsides deserved, American soft and delightful. Assimilation can only go so far.