FUKU 6, 2nd Mystery Box OR: How Meh Assuaged All My FOMO

First, let me apologize for this being posted billions of years after I got it, and second, I still haven't photographed/appreciated my actual FUKU (which was AWESOME) or the FUKU I won from Pavlov (which was even AWESOMER). Not to go into the drudgery of my sad existence, but I can't handle much these days and photographing this was only one item, so let's leave it at that. Except (this is written from the future) apparently I am writing a novel about this but it's always easier to do things once you start them.

But anyway. I had a little note in my FUKU. To wait for the 2nd box.

I was happy to see it but kept my expectations low, which has been keeping me sane for the last few months.

Then I got an email, asking me to confirm my address.

Because it was going to be a LARGE box.

Wh--woah, I thought. Excitement tingled in my toetips.

So I gave 'em my address and said that it could be left on the patio of my apartment, but it could also be left behind the house.

To paraphrase, the response was "Oh, wait! You have an apartment? Hang on, we'll give this to someone else and find something for you."

Now, I don't know if you suffer from FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), but I do. Oh, how I do. I was always the last to leave a party, for FOMO. The one butting into conversations for FOMO. The one who tries things that are clearly just not good for you because FOMO, it could be great.

Lowered expectations are one thing, but FOMO is anxiety that cannot be reckoned with.

WHAT WAS THE THING?? WAS IT A CRYSTAL CHANDELIER??? THOSE CAN WORK IN APARTMENTS!! I LOVE CRYSTAL CHANDELIERS!! WAS IT AN INFLATABLE HOT TUB? A WASHING MACHINE? A WROUGHT IRON PORTCULLIS??? WAS IT A TREE??????

My mind went crazy. What could be used in a house that can't be used in an apartment? It must have something to do with the yard, or permanence. A bathtub? A shed? An elaborate bird-feeder?

I couldn't think of it and I couldn't stop thinking of it.

I furiously wrote them back, asking what it was. Asking them to save me from FOMO.

"Just you wait, Henry Higgins!" was their reply (not really but that's the gist) (also I'm using the gender neutral they but it was @hollboll or at least I think Holly is @hollboll because that makes sense).

So I waited. She said I'd find out when people posted about them. So someone else was getting MY FUKU PRESENT. SOMEONE ELSE. My FOMO was out of control, it was no longer FOMO it was COMO. Certainty Of Missing Out.

But like all fears and certainties in my life, I shoved it deep down and pretended it didn't exist and went about my life.

Then, I got a notification. I hadn't bought anything from Amazon and I wasn't expecting a package from anyone.

Then, I remembered. My 2nd box. It was coming. Oh my god.

Then, it arrived.

I told my mother about it that morning. She said she hopes it's a carpet cleaner. I live in an apartment with wall-to-wall carpeting that curses my very existence, as I have three cats who like to shed, puke, poop, and pee everywhere. It is only my deep, probably-toxoplasma-gondii-induced devotion to them that keeps me hand-scrubbing the carpet every day.

I biked home from work and as I turned into my apartment complex, I saw it. It was massive. Thrusting to the sky, proudly erect on my patio, a giant package at least 5 feet tall, lumpy and oddly shaped, bigger than I could hug around.

I pedaled furiously, FOMO unleashed like a mighty vulture sprung from its cage, shrieking and nipping at my ears. "IT'S PROBABLY AN INFLATABLE CACTUS," it shrieked, "THEY WERE GOING TO SEND YOU A GIANT BRICK OF GOLD AND INSTEAD YOU GOT A STACK OF BROKEN TOASTERS."

I arrived, and looked at it. Walked all around it. Bating my breath, I examined the construction. This was no one box. This was at least four boxes that had been ripped apart and taped together. A frankenbox. What monstrosity could it contain?

I hauled open my patio door and dragged it inside. It was surprisingly light. From the size I was expecting at least two hernias.

My cats swarmed around me, sniffing the box, patting it with their paws and looking at me, asking, "Can we eat this?" I said, "No." "Can we pee on it?" they asked. "No," I sighed, and they wandered away to pee on something else.

I set to work opening the box. The tape was tight, the cardboard layered. I struggled and ripped and sliced and tore and opened just enough to get a hand into the box. I couldn't see in, since there's no light in my living room and it was already dark out, I could see just a bit from the light in my kitchen.

I reached in. I felt it.

My heart sank to the hideous shag carpet beneath my feet. They had sent me a rug.

My dejected fingers played over the thick, rough texture of the rug. A giant, rolled-up rug. More rug to scrub. A rug. I can't even sell a rug. They couldn't have chosen something less-suitable for me if they tried.

I was so torn. Guilt for feeling ungrateful about my present. Misery that I now had a giant rug to deal with. Trepidation that I'd probably have to haul it all the way to the end of the apartment complex on trash day. Sorrow that someone at Meh tried to make someone happy and I couldn't give them that. I wanted to cry.

So I left it for the night. I couldn't deal.

The next day I decided I might as well see what it looked like. Maybe it was a beautiful persian rug or something. So I set to opening the rest of the box.

In the warm morning sun, I folded back three giant flaps to reveal the rug.

My breath caught. Tears welled in my eyes.

They hadn't sent me a rug.

Of all the things to send a poor, cat-crazed weirdo, of all the things I would love and adore but couldn't buy myself, the most suitable thing they could have chosen for me.

They sent me a cat tree.

I sobbed as I ran into my bedroom and tried picking up all three cats at once. "COME LOOK AT IT," I bawled. Miss Kitty took off like a rocket and the others hung limply from my arms, used to my shenanigans.

They sniffed, they rubbed, they scratched. They loved it. I loved it.

I had to go to work, but when I got back I dragged Miss Kitty kicking and screaming (she's actually very docile when I'm not barging around like a stormtrooper) and placed her on the tippy-top like a little black cake topper. I even dragged my bedroom light into the living room for the honors.

Thank you, Meh. I hope you know how happy you made me with this roller coaster of emotion.