I had a really interesting day the other week, where everything seemed to somehow center around cardboard boxes and how I needed one and did or didn’t have one on hand. It started with getting my kids on the bus, and how my daughter was trying to preserve her science project without first) her brothers ruining it before she got to school, second) anybody else ruining it from either the bus stop or the bus ride on the way to school, or third) acts of God, which is meant by rain, or a car spraying a giant puddle, or the neighbor’s dog feeling strongly attracted to the moving pieces dangling about.

Lucky for the unassuming seven-year-old, Mom had a plan! I had gotten something in the mail the other day, and I went and retrieved the box from the garage. Normally, whenever we get some sort of box, we throw it in the garage to burn for later. However, I’ve started to realize the merit in breaking down and preserving some of them. This is just a fact of life, or what comes from having a family. We always need cardboard boxes!
No sooner had my kids gotten on the bus than I started making a meal I was supposed to deliver to a friend later that night, who’d had surgery. I had attempted to deliver too many meals, and attempted is the key word here. So many times I have thought that the casserole would be fine on the floor of the passenger side, or in the trunk semi-tucked in. Only to have frozen hashbrowns and parmesan cheese spread and sprayed all over my vehicle, which smells bad enough as it is. Of course, I am not blaming this on anyone but myself, and the naive presupposition that gravity somehow operates on merit, and surely it would favor me if I’m trying to do a good deed.
Well, I have since taken a science class, and also begun to wrap the acrobatic dishes in bath towels, and then rest them in cardboard boxes, which I then anchor between roller blades and the jack. Works like a charm. Unless I don’t have any cardboard boxes. Which, on this particular day, I didn’t. Crap. Isn’t it just the worst when you don’t have any cardboard boxes on hand? Let’s just that I won’t be taken by surprise like that again…
Even if you don’t believe in Santa Claus, which I wouldn’t you blame for (I mean, really, the whole thing doesn’t make much sense, and I hope you don’t mind me saying it), it’s probably at least easy to believe in bin liners. I’m not suggesting you start trying to convince your kids that bin liners have some sort of magical properties, and it would be hard-pressed to center that around Christmas of all things. BUT, when you think about toy shops, bins and bin liners make a lot of sense. And if you aren’t thinking about toy shops they still make sense for any kind of shop. Even for the supplier of the shop.
At PackagingSupplies.com there are close to a hundred sizes. That’s not an exaggeration, either. At least there are fifty. If I counted them all I would probably wind up somewhere in the middle, like eighty, but that doesn’t seem like a productive way to be spending my time. Feel free to do so, and let me know the exact number if you want. But the point is that the smallest size is thirty-six inches by twenty-eight inches by sixty inches. That’s right, this is the smallest size. Three feet by five feet. That’s pretty big, with over two feet in width. Remember how I said that bin liners are gusseted? That means they have a width. Normal garbage bags are just two flat pieces of plastic bound at the sides, and open at one end. It is flat.