I have many life rules. Most are present in the same way societal rules came to be. Someone, somewhere, did something heinous and now we have a rule in place to prevent that from happening again. The next time you see a rule posted that’s inconceivable, remember that it’s only there because someone was dumb enough to try it. For instance, it is still illegal, in Arizona, to allow your donkey to sleep in a bathtub. Imagine this interaction. “Momma, I wanna take a bath.” “That’s nice, Junior, but Winston, the donkey, is sleeping in this morning.” Texas is no better. We have a law remaining on the books that makes milking another person’s cow punishable. While I’m not terribly concerned over where donkeys slumber or who’s milking all the cows, I do care deeply about packaging. That’s my rule. Never trust a package. Why, there was a year where I received a HUGE Christmas gift from Mr. Moon. What I assumed was a professional grade Kitchen Aid mixer turned out to be a box of literal rocks. There were also several books, a brick, a ton of wadded up newspaper, and finally, and engagement ring in the mix. I was elated, yet secretly a little miffed about the mixer issue. That packaging snafu turned out to work in my favor, but that’s not always the case. Sometimes, the rule works in reverse, too. My momma would say to never trust a book by the cover. I just say to tread lightly on your expectations. Packaging lies.
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