Space Bags. They seem like a miracle. A strange little space aged miracle that sort of appeals to our love of nano-technology by making everything we have just that much smaller. They promise you will regain control of closets and garages and swear that you can basically zip up a mammoth in an XL, suck him dry with a vacuum cleaner and store him until the Yeti Apocolypse.
In fact, this is a bitchfaced lie. After pleading like a child seeing a toy commercial, I allowed my husband to order the SEVEN, SEVEN PACKAGE SPACE BAG ULTRA SPECIAL ORDER IF YOU CALL NOW! His hand shook as he took phone to ear. YES. YES, THE SPACE BAGS, I NEED THEM. You see, we have an inordinate amount of pillows and bedding as a result of poor wedding registry skills and our closets are like big Michelin Man coffins.
So the bags came and I’m telling you we were dancing around as we tore open the box, and I went to fetch a comforter and we, of course, without reading any directions, shoved that mother in there as fast and as angrily as possible. Then we sealed the vacuum cleaner on there and we sucked and sucked and sucked…and paused…and squished, and examined, and sucked and sucked.
OK, it was flat, just like the commercials. Blanket jerky. We put it in the closet, and no shit, 3 hours later it had doubled in size. WHAT THE? We got out the handy Ziploc tool they give you to close the bags, assuming that they weren’t sealed correctly and re-sealed the bag, pushing it further down to the bottom, and then sucked it again. Flat again.
Hubby threw it in the back computer room and closed the door so we wouldn’t be tempted to prod it. The next day, like Christmas morning, I awoke early and tiptoed back there…and for the love of the lord, it was fully inflated. It looked like a fat blanket shoved in a bag. I threw it around a little bit in anger and then went to get the Ziploc-y thing to seal it YET AGAIN. Then I took the whole blanket out, refolded it with significant force and shoved it in there, sucking it again.
As if in revenge, it loosed itself faster than ever and now I’ve shoved those fucking bags in the closet where the bedding is supposed to be and ceremoniously threw ONE of the Ziploc tools out the window as if liberating myself. I think a squirrel took it. Obviously, my husband said he’s going to ‘tinker’ with it, as if it’s complicated electrical product, but it’s not, it’s a huge fucking freezer bag that doesn’t seal and I wasted my fucking money and sucking time on them.
Space Bags. Don’t do it.
