What’s the Dumbest P.O.S. You Bought This Week?

This is a safe space, right?

Because I have something I need to get off my tissue-turtlenecked chest:

I have an online shopping problem.

If this were an episode of In Treatment, Dr. Weston would probably have me lying down on a marsala La-Z-Boy, scrutinizing my childhood until he finally came to the conclusion that my “condition” was more a case of, I watched too much QVC with Grandma.

But it’s not about the clothes, although I’ve fallen victim to the velvet-choker-pastel-duster-coat wormhole that is Asos more than once. It’s the odd trinkets — the CafePress mugs, tribal iPhone cases, celestial coasters — that really scream, “I’m not sure how you survived 23 years without me, but I guarantee that you won’t last much longer.”

It’s how I wound up with the Lumo Lift, a $100 posture corrector, plus a year’s supply of Retainer Brite (hey, you never know) and waterproof flip-flops that decompress then fold into a pouch the size of my lathered-in-coconut oil palm. Said oil, by the way, is not nearly as rich as the Amazon review said it’d be.

I was frustrated by the local salad store’s Sriracha portions and so do you know what I did? I bought a Sriracha keychain. Actually, Charlotte bought it on a three-for-one deal, but I assure you I pushed her to the brink of that checkout. On Tuesday, I purchased a birchwood double-walled insulated S’well bottle because they promised me piping coffee for up to 12 hours.

There is a hot iron rubber holster collecting a fifth day’s dust since I went rogue in The Container Store on Sunday and convinced myself of its virtue. Have you ever been to The Container Store? It is a minefield of all of your untapped potential. But proceed with caution — you cannot compartmentalize your feelings, my friend.

I’ve ordered everything from a NutriBullet to velvet hangers to a Bauerfeind ValguLoc Bunion Regulator in the name of self-improvement. Just ask Amazon, my trusted companion and staunchest defender.

Just yesterday, he told me I needed this:

For the love of my paycheck, please someone, talk me out of it. Make me feel less alone for a moment and tell me about the weirdest shit you bought today. Fine, recently.

Feature image via HEISME Studio, in post image shot by Leta Sobierajski , both via Things Organized Neatly