i'll see your outrage, and raise you a stink.

Is it wrong to feel personally insulted when the yellow O chair arrives after a 12-week wait, freshly upholstered in tweedy Canadian goodness, and it's got an 8 inch gash right through the fabric? I am someone you can walk right over, apparently. Is it wrong to expect just one transaction in my life to proceed without incident? Have I built up some sort of tragic consumption karma, whereby everything entering my life will be missing knobs, scratched up just so, or otherwise defect-ridden? Oh, to have a focus. Something to get my mind off of all the gashiness!