Why I’m afraid to order lawn furniture over the internet

My plan was to take the crowbar and finesse it along the side until I hit the back wall, then give it a twist and pull. My hope was that if I got the first package to fall out, it would give me a better angle at the other three packages.

Just another day at my overstuffed mailbox.

I’ve decided if I ever start a moving company, I will only hire former United Parcel Service drivers and US Postal Service workers. Don’t get me wrong, I love these people. Hey, anyone who can fit a blazer, a box of vitamins and a pair of tennis shoes in a mailbox possess a unique skill set. If they were Italian chefs, muffulettas would weigh 37 pounds.

I’m guessing it’s like a UPS vs USPS competition, which one can stuff the most. I imagine them calling each other and saying, “Frank, you gotta get over here and see what Betsy jammed into this mailbox on Calhoun Street…a three-pack of paper towels, two shirts and a pool toy. And she’s going back to the truck for a set of salad tongs. She’s my hero”. This is exactly why I’m afraid to order lawn furniture over the internet.

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Things like that never used to bother me, but COVID shrunk our universe. Things that happened around the house seemed smaller when our universe was larger. But the more time I spent at home, the more the little things got bigger.

My battles with the squirrels at the bird feeder are epic. And ants, not just a couple of little ant hills, but more like ant condos. It’s as if they knew I was being distracted by the squirrels. I’ve been playing Whack-An-Ant. I get one hill and another pops up 10 feet away. They never actually die, they sublet.

I’ve got a blue jay that mocks me, a garden hose that leaks like a D.C. secret, a solar heater that I could put on the surface of the sun, and it would still only heat for 20 minutes and a garage door that only opens when it feels like it. I’ve got a lime tree that I’ve had for three years, and it’s produced exactly one thorn. I’ve got a toilet that runs like a toddler’s nose, all day.

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The truth is it’s all wonderful. One of the COVID gifts has been rediscovering our smaller places. Discovering what’s actually behind the shelves in the garage or just catching up on some dusty cookbooks. And some other things that guys who know how to use power tools would do.

I value my time with friends and family more than I did before I couldn’t. I have two friends who finally wrote their books, because they had the time to sit and think. Another who rediscovered her love of cooking and finally figured out how to turn it into a career.

And it will be fascinating watching this batch of kids who had their parents at home with them in a way that previous generations never imagined. I wonder if who they become may have changed – both kids and parents – because they had to share the space that most of us never did.

Our world is getting bigger again with great haste; the good, the bad, the hateful and the sad. But maybe, just maybe, solitude urging us to find our better selves was what we needed. To emerge from our caves, rubbing our eyes, and hopefully seeing the world in a different way. A kinder way. Taking a dust-blower to our collective souls and being more tolerant of those who we saw as different.

I’m going to try to remember to hang on to the small things a little longer. To visit those things around my space more than I did before the virus stole our time. I mean, how else will I get the Emeril Lagasse Power Air Fryer 360 out of my mailbox.

Gary Yordon is a host of the political WCTV program “The Usual Suspects” and president of The Zachary Group. You can find his podcast, “Banana Peel Boulevard” at thepeelpodcast.com or on the Apple, Amazon Music and Spotify platforms.

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This article originally appeared on Tallahassee Democrat: Why I’m afraid to order lawn furniture over the internet | Gary Yordon