It’s not you, it’s me.

Dear Mr. UPS Man,

We haven’t seen much of each other lately.  In fact, I’m not sure that your shiny brown van has graced my driveway even once this week…or last week.  I do appreciate your speedy delivery and the fact that you both knock and ring my doorbell when you visit.  I like that you don’t judge me for my inappropriate relationship with Amazon…and Zulily…and Zappos.   But…eyebrows are being raised and I’m running out of room to hide the evidence.

After a particularly prolific December, I promised my husband that it would end.  But after all, it was Christmas…I was allowed…it was easier on all of us.  But when the December shenanigans spilled over into January…and the pile of empty boxes became more that I could reasonably dispose of or conceal without escalating suspicion from my friends and family members…I knew it was time to deal with the addiction.

So, while I’ve gone cold turkey in ending my relationship with Amazon, Zulily, Zappos…and the others.  I felt I owed you an explanation and an apology of sorts.  Our relationship has been nothing but good but I’ve come to realize that you’re an enabler.  I’ll still wave out my window as I watch you drive by and I’ll remember our time together with fondness.   But our time together must end before the stockpile of boxes in my basement becomes a fire hazard and the crew of Hoarders stages and intervention.

You’ve been good to me.  I’ll always remember you…and your shiny brown truck…and your seemingly endless boxes full of happiness.   If you need to commiserate with someone over our severed relationship, feel free to talk to my credit card vendor.  We’re having the same difficult break up.

Really, it’s not you…it’s me.