priority shipping

Stuck on four shirt designs.



A bit of choice paralysis. Each one designed with whimsy and irony, and they convey fairness at $18 dollars each. I already own three other shirts from Threadless, so I'm one checkout away from having a week's worth.

I can't stop thinking about those shirts. I'm visualizing the shipping process, imagining the arrival of the package, sandwiched between the screen and front doors.

I have to think about those shirts. Because every time I stop, I'm thinking about Haiti, the death toll, the rubble, and the bodies pinned under roofs, walls, beams. Because the information pouring forth from my flat-screen HDTV indicates that even the saved are still at peril. No food, no medicine, one runway.

But I can pick up my tricked-out, app-ed up phone and donate $10. I can sit back on Friday night and watch (on my flat-screen HDTV) George Clooney telethon, celebrity-style, to raise needed funds.

And if all goes according to priority-shipping, I'll have one of those new shirts on Friday night, amazed and disgusted with a process that brings me cotton trash with greater celerity than food, medicine, and people to a country in dire need of on-going support.