I had our mail stopped while we were in Nebraska over Christmas and when we returned, so did our mail. By the looks of it all, one would have thought that we were running a Fortune 500 company from our home. The amount of unwanted mail was literally off the chain. We were being shown new cars that could 'easily' find their way to our garage making us all that we could be in 2014. We were taunted by great deals on any and every electronic device know to man. Toy adds for the kids just in case they hadn't received everything for Christmas that the commercials had told them earlier that they wanted. And last but not least, adds for the Mom who, because it's January 1, now feels like a round, smelly, pimpled, frizzy haired slob. Really? Why? How did all of these stalkers get my address?
Once I finally sorted and shredded the nonsense I, like any other modern human being, headed to my computer. Low and behold, there Peeping Tom was again, only this time he was peeping in on me through my email. How dare he? I wasn't even wearing a bra. My inbox was full of new messages from people that I didn't recall ever introducing myself to.
For me it is so much easier to 'find' things that I want or need or just have to have otherwise the world will start shaking and the grounds will crack; if they are constantly available at my fingertips. Just one click away and I can have that amazing...fill in the blank.
All of these adds, whether they're via snail mail or email, tell me I can look like, be like, or drive like 'everyone' else. Why would I want to though? We try and teach our children that it is cool to be unique and different. That if we follow the crowd, we run the risk of getting lost. Why would that example only apply to little ones? My idea of being cool and unique is not having the same outrageous amount of credit card debt that 'everyone else' has been
If you would like to opt-out as I did, click here to be taken to the government site that will allow you to get rid of the stalkers and Peeping Toms in your life.
Blessings,
'me'
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