Plaidophile

Yeah, yeah, I know, it was only last June that I was getting rid of a bunch of moving boxes of my own and included bad poetry as an incentive for people to take my boxes over all the other box offerings on the list. This was clearly short-sighted of me, as I did not expect that I would be moving again so soon! But, hey, the timing was right to buy a place in Ballard and I'm sinking every penny I can into a down payment, which means that I need (or at least would rather like) to get a collection of moving boxes at as little cost to myself as possible.

Sure, I could always just raid the inter-office moving supplies cabinets, or sneak into the company store at [redacted] and discreetly empty out the larger boxes containing miscellaneous furniture and editorially-reviewed economy-size diaper packs. Heck, I could even construct a makeshift facsimile of packing materials from the copious piles of copier paper scattered hither and yon throughout our organization. But I would much rather be on the up-and-up about this whole sordid affair.

I don't need your charity, or your pity, or even the time of day. I just need some cardboard moving boxes. And in the end, isn't that what we all need?

That and love. But mostly moving boxes.

I thank you in advance, as would my belongings, but they don't like to be anthropomorphized.