My mother-of-the-groom dress arrived on Friday. I ordered it from Ebay and it arrived via Canada Post. Normally when I get a parcel, the postman knocks on the door, if we are home we receive the parcel. If we are not home, he leaves a parcel card in the mailbox and we go to the post office to retrieve it.
Jed and I were up and fighting with each other before 8 am on Friday and neither of us heard anyone come up the stairs nor knock on the door. (they usually come to the back door) At 10:30 Jed went out to take the garbage can to the street for pick up, and saw the parcel laying on the deck beside the back door. How weird.
The only thing I can think is that as the postman raised his hand to knock, he could see directly into my kitchen where I stood washing the dishes and yelling instructions, interlaced with expletives, towards Jed while I was trying to convey that it was in his best interest to do some chores, like taking out the trash, if wanted to continue to live in my home. It appeared that my method of verbal explanation was not working so I enforced it by projecting a dripping dishcloth in his general direction.
I envision the postman peering in my window just as the cloth fwapped Jed in the side of the head, so he just dropped the parcel and ran for his life. Ooops. Well, social services didn't pay me a visit and Jed immediately took the garbage out, so I guess all was not lost.
And my dress is fantastic.