08 July 2014

0 wherein i pay £25 for my own dirty clothes

when we were in new york and i was trying to cram all of my crap back into the carry-on i'd brought, a few things had to be bailed out and left with debo. namely a pair of dirty burgundy pants and a romper i had purchased believing it to be a dress.

read: high priority fashions.

as a "surprise", debo decided to send these two items to me in england, hoping they would reach me in time for my birthday (for which i would want to wear a romper??). which was lovely and kind and thoughtful and amazing. though it might've been more so had debo not taken it upon herself to make this her first time mailing me a package in england.

see, in the breakdown of family duties, as anyone will know who has ever received a package from him, garebear is the family mailer. debo does tele-com. i do all things relating my being in england.

so debo went rogue and did her own mailing. again, lovely and kind and thoughtful and amazing, except for the tiny detail of customs. a tiny detail she didn't fill out quite right.

because instead of establishing that she was sending me a package containing my own clothes, something in the way she filled out the form implied these were new clothes. clothes, therefore, entitled to being taxed.

you can imagine my surprise when this surprise box first entered my life via a terribly threatening notice from her majesty's royal mail's customs bureau, informing me that because some delinquent had sent a package with insufficient postage, i was now being forced to cough up £25 (ie. $42.84).

quickly, i called my parents to ascertain this was, in fact, likely the "surprise" they'd been promising for over a month and about whose whereabouts they had been wondering. and also that it contained a dirty pair of pants and a dress that was, sadly, in reality, a piece of clothing about which i've derisively written for the last five years.

pouting over the injustice of having to pay £25 (my weekly grocery budget) for my own clothes, i failed to do so for a solid two weeks. finally, i did and finally i went to pick them up.

the more exciting surprise wound up being the desk chair sitting abandoned outside the post office, which i snapped up and hauled home and which has wound up being amazingly fabulous and absolutely worth the £25 i paid her majesty to get my clothes out of hock.

perspective, perspective, people. it is key. also filling out customs forms right...

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