I love catalogs. All kinds of catalogs. Seed and plant catalogs. Everything-under-$14.95 catalogs. Pet supplies catalogs. Kitchen equipment catalogs. Car parts catalogs. Harbor Freight catalogs.
J. Peterman catalogs. (Especially J. Peterman catalogs–I don’t buy a lot of stuff from him because I think he’s a tad too costly, but his descriptions of the items are almost better than the Reader’s Digest for bathroom reading.)
Christmas catalogs. Ornament catalogs. Christmas ornament catalogs. Book catalogs. Music catalogs. Music-related item catalogs. Jewelry catalogs. The Whole Earth Catalog.
OMG! The Whole Earth Catalog! Who wouldn’t want a catalog of everything on the entire earth, for pete’s sake?
Oh. I know they’re all–most, anyway–online somewhere, but it’s not the same. You can’t take them in your two hands and savor the feel of the paper. You can’t turn down the corners on the pages that have exactly what you
need absolutely have to have want. You can’t draw little arrows from the item to the margin where you can write a note to your significant other why you would die not be able to function probably save a lot of money if s/he didn’t get it for you.
I love catalogs even though I keep them too long and the stuff isn’t available anymore. Even though the livingroom/bedroom/kitchen/bathroom/office table/floor/ottoman/counter is covered with them. Even though I couldn’t possibly afford all the stuff in them that I want and don’t have enough space to store them in if I could.
I know that catalogs aren’t as good as books because you can also smell books and usually catalogs are odor free. Probably because their pages are stapled and not glued, and the glue is made from horses’ hooves, or something else equally smelly. I once read a book that smelled like raisins. Besides thoroughly enjoying the writing in the book, I also enjoyed thinking about horses dipping their hooves into little red Sunmaid boxes.
But back to catalogs. My letter carrier does not like catalogs. The pages get wrinkled and tear in the mailbag, and they can get wet in the transfer from bag to addressee mailbox. Not to mention that catalog lovers such as myself do get miffed when the mail carrier hands them a wet, wrinkled catalog with torn pages and even–goddess forbid–missing covers. Plus, a mail bag full of catalogs is heavy. And a bag full of wet catalogs? Traipsing upstairs in an apartment building? A Sisyphusian nightmare.
But, hey, if it weren’t for my love for catalogs, many of my friends would not get some of the very
strange cool gifts they get from me because you just can’t find that weird cool a gift in the store. Besides, if it weren’t for that particular kind of junk mail, my mail carrier might not be working on Monday, either. Which he could probably use off, anyway, to give his back a rest. And read a couple of tool catalogs.