Here’s the deal. I got a Bed Bath & Beyond catalog in the mail today. In the past, I have deposited these directly into the recycling bin. But today, by a gust of fate, a breeze blew the booklet open and something caught my eye – the 36 Pair Over the Door Shoe Rack (sale price, $29.99). Hmmm, I pondered to myself, perhaps I should give this literature a closer look.
Back inside my apartment, I began to leaf through this novella of advertisements and found myself more and more intrigued. On page 14, I became enamored with the Slate Firepit (“includes dome firescreen, screen lift tool and protective cover”), and who could forget the Cedar Ottoman (“real cedar wood lining”), and I was happily impressed with the ingenuity of EZ Feet (a device that looks like the love child of a flip-flop and an over-sized novelty toothbrush, and suction cups to the bottom of your shower floor so that you can clean your feet with ease).
Let’s take these items one by one. My first love – the 36 pair shoe rack. My honest reaction when I saw it was – that looks like a really convenient way to organize my footwear. About two seconds later it occurred to me that I only own four pairs of shoes. Sure, I could impress friends and Jehovah’s Witnesses when they drop by and I let them choose from any of the 32 vacancies to park their loafers whilst we visit…but do I really want friends who are blown away by sneaker storage? And do I really want Jehovah’s Witnesses who are…in my apartment? Probably not.
What about the firepit? It’s a pit. For fire. Plus, it not only has a screen, but a screen lift tool. Seriously, how many times have you thought to yourself, if only I had a screen lift tool. Again, it sounds like I mock, but it actually looked cool. I wanted one. I wanted a circular, raised fire holder. Like primitive man, I wanted fire. Like modern man, I wanted it in convenient pit form. But I don’t have a backyard. I don’t even have a balcony. If I put the firepit in the hall, the smoke alarm would go off constantly. Very inconvenient.
Okay, surely my apartment could accommodate a cedar ottoman. I’ll be honest, even though I like the sound of it, and even though I’m looking at a picture of it at this very moment, I have absolutely no idea what an ottoman is. I don’t know what one is expected to do with, on, or near an ottoman. It sounds impressive (probably due mostly to the empire connection), but I’m not so sure the person that invented the ottoman even knows its purpose. I can’t go around buying things I’ll never use – I made that mistake once already with the exercise bike. Never again.
Lastly there’s EZ Feet. It’s actual slogan – “No more bending to clean your feet.” This must be the embodiment of American laziness. But so what, if we’re going to be slothful, we might as well embrace it. I think this product is deep. I think it knows who we truly are. I think it has the potential to clean more than just our soles…it can clean our souls. I just don’t know if I’m ready for that type of commitment.
So why am I confronting Bed Bath & Beyond? I have no problem with their products. They’re beautiful. Beyond beautiful. My issue is that BB&B made me want them.
In my twenties, I never even entered one of their fine establishments. And, until today, I’d never gone through one of their fliers cover to cover. Because I had cool, young, hip things to do. Like bungee jumping, night club hopping and twittering my peeps. An over the door shoe rack never looked cool to me for one good reason. It isn’t. But now, all of the sudden, I’m old. Organizing my footwear is more appealing than putting it on for a night out. And I curse Bed Bath & Beyond for illuminating this fact.
So, how am I going to do it? How will I recapture my youth and stop wanting to purchase firepits and ottomans? Well, as always, the first step towards recovery is admitting that I have a problem. My name is Makya McBee and I sort of want to go shop at Bed Bath & Beyond. Wow, that feels better. A weight has been lifted. I think I also need to give up my childish ways and embrace adulthood. I need to eliminate my fear of growing older. Take a look around at the more mature generation. See what it’s like to walk a mile in their shoes…
Damn, if I only had that shoe rack.