Yes. I've been there. Martha, Dwell, Marie Claire Maison: the whole genre titillates... I remember well, among many tips, RL's suggestion to keep a "drawer full" of gifts, $50 or less, for "unexpected visitors," and once, a photo of some paper clips and rubber bands that had been sorted by color. It's so good that I cannot get that kind of healthy advice here.
But I have a different weakness now. My porn is put out by logistics companies. I eat their stuff up; it makes me just grin. The commercials are all the same. The young man with ball cap and clipboard, handing a box to a delighted small business owner, first the diminutive florist in Japan (lanterns, flute music), then the cattle rancher (fences, hearty handshake), and then naturally his next delivery is for a child, whose birthday party is already underway (parents proffering cake, but no, can't stay, got a deadline) and now we see the truck, chugging cheerily along up a neon green hill on some Irish isle, past a red phone booth, or scrappily through an infested swap, or along the Great Wall, or one of Manhattan's bridges. Finally we glimpse the Warehouse, the pulsing heart of the whole operation, with forklifts humming around and waves exchanged before zoom, the logo jet takes off soaring into the sky, carrying packages probably intended for you. No matter that my experiences as shipper and recipient don't match the hype -- no way -- I'm sure never tempted to ship anything. But the enormous, smooth-running, tidy machine is a beauteous thing to behold. Like the Playmobile catalog. Or a Richard Scarry book. Love it.
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