Well, that’s the last time I’m going to be tricked by a salad bowl

As you may be aware, I like to buy shit online.Especially for the house.

There is nothing more exciting than buying shit online, except buying shit online that you’re psychologically motivated into buying by the combination of never-ending innovation of American consumerist practices and Pinterest.

In this case, I’m talking about One King’s Lane. Those of you who read “shelter” blogs may be familiar with this website, which was started-up several years ago with the sole purpose of separating 20-45-year-old women from their money by putting pretty things up on the site and selling them at supposedly aggressive prices, but making the whole experience auction-like, adding a sense of urgency to your chevron-towel buying frenzy.

I never joined  this site because I was waiting until I was on Mr. B’s all-clear list to buy things. As you can surmise, that moment never came, but this winter did, and boy was it depressing, and boy, wouldn’t it be nice to join this site-JUST TO LOOK FOR INSPIRATIONAL IDEAS- and oh, look! I already have my credit card information in there.

Every day, those bastards send you an email with carefully-curated collections of shit you can buy:

I don’t even LIKE the sea, and I want that coastal charm, damnit! I WANT THAT SAD STARFISH CANDLE HOLDER.

So it started very casually, because I learned from the pros that One Kings Lane is all about comparison shopping and waiting and sales and all that  yawn-yawn frugal stuff that led us out of the Great Depression.

This recession is not going to be ended through hard work and spending consciousness. It’s going to end with me buying something from One Kings Lane.  The problem is, that shit is EXPENSIVE. Like, crazy expensive. Case in point:

THIS MIRROR COSTS ALMOST $500. This shower curtain is $200. THAT’S ALMOST HOW MUCH MY LIFE IS WORTH.

So, I waited like a shark. Finally, I noticed something that I actually needed and that seemed well-priced, a salad bowl. I’ve been wanting a wooden salad bowl for a while, because I am yuppie and middle class, and this is the height of my earthly aspirations:

This salad bowl cost $29, plus shipping, but if you think about it, it was $16 off, so really, I reasoned with Mr. B, it was like we were saving money. I looked it up on the artist’s Etsy site; looked legit. Also, it’s colorful.

After all of the final taxes, the salad bowl came out to $42(!). But it’s worth it if you’re going to use it for generations, right?  I waited for weeks for my salad bowl.  When they finally said it shipped, I bought some salad in anticipation.

Then the salad bowl came:

Correct, it’s the size of my hand.  Here’s another picture, of Mr. B’s disapproving face in proportion to said salad bowl:

I can’t even look at that picture anymore. I feel like he’s still judging me. Which he is.

To be fair, the product description did say 7 inches. But how was I supposed to know that seven inches is not enough for salad?

Here’s the picture on the artist’s site. Very salad-y and ful of leafy greens, amirite?

I was depressed for all of last night.

I tried to think of some uses for my overpriced yuppie salad bowl.

I came up with only one:

Correct. Next time you come over to my house, you can eat one piece of fruit from the salad bowl.

Thanks, capitalism!

By the way, if you’d like to join One Kings Lane, I have $15 we can share on half a towel.