I certainly did not order a Candlepin bowling ball.
The box is light, and I briefly wonder if it's empty. It is not. Apparently a Zen water fountain is inside this box. Seriously. A fountain.
I vaguely recall buying this crazy little fountain a year ago, maybe more, on sale at a pharmacy chain store. I also see from the sale price that I paid no more than $5 for this Zen experience.
Bringing the fountain downstairs, I open the box and start spilling materials onto the kitchen table. This doesn't seem too difficult. I don't have to do much assembly: batteries in the bottom and pebbles strategically placed so as not to block the water holes. Seven ounces of water needs to be poured in the reservoir, and I should be good to go.
The strange thing is that I find a plastic bag of AA batteries already tucked into the box. I must've opened this up at some point, read the directions, and decided to take it somewhere (hence the baggie of batteries). I suspect that I was going to put it on my desk at school, but somehow the fountain never made it there.
Within five minutes, the fountain is up and running. I take a video of it and send it to my son with a text that says something about the degree of work I'm (not) doing. He responds in kind.
To be honest, it's kind of fun watching the fountain go, but it's hard to hear the actual water splashing along, which is the entire point of a fountain. The motor whirs so loudly that all I'm really hearing is a mechanical drone.
Oh, well. It's still an interesting conversation piece, and I can always take it to school in September, if need be.
