I walked up to my gate after getting stuck in my car for 15 minutes (San Francisco parking... it happens), and I noticed a big bulging package on the doorstep. First thought? "Oh mannnnnn... did I drunk shop again? What did I buy now?!" Second thought: "Maybe it's the new neighbors?!" Nope. Right there. A label with my name on it. The shame of blowing cash on an Etsy find I JUST HAD TO HAVE at 12:45 on a friday night while in a dark bar corner because my drinking companion thought it was AMAZINGLYOZOM! began to flush my cheeks. I plodded upstairs.
I ripped open the package to find several stacks of really amazing vintage cooking pamphlets and books. Such a great collection-- totally something I would buy. But no receipt. No packing list. Just a tiny yellow post-it reading "Free Fun". Wait. What?
To whom ever sent this... thank you!