The catalogs that we receive in a year could insulate a medium-sized home. They pour in through the mail, as if the stream of solicitation e-mail from the same companies weren't enough. Sometimes we will get duplicate catalogs on the same day, one addressed to me and the other to my wife. Once we got three from LL Bean, my daughter accounting for the third one.
The trash bag gets awfully heavy when it is filled with catalogs.
Most of them repeat the same old merchandize from catalog to catalog with perhaps a few new things thrown in to make it appear different. Sometimes I look through them while eating breakfast. One the other day had three different plastic “guns” with which to shoot marshmallows! Who buys these things?
The type of family you are is reflected in the catalogs you receive. My wife receives bike supply catalogs, though she hasn't ridden either of her two bikes in months. My daughter receives upscale women's clothing (and underclothing) catalogs. As for myself, I get catalogs from outdoor suppliers and cigar purveyors, though I've long since given up overpriced stogies. Catalogs, then, may be as much a measure of one's past as one's future. And, like the past, they are always there, endless, undeterred, innumerable.
With the holiday season upon us, the crush of catalogs will only get worse. It is akin to a feeding frenzy of sorts, the ones with the merchandisers jumping up and down trying to gain the attention of potential customers. You want this! Buy this! HAVE WE GOT A DEAL FOR YOU!