Wednesday, 28 November 2012

Brown Paper Packages.

So walking back from dropping the Nazgul at daycare this morning I composed the most outstanding blog post in my head, truly it was magnificent so it was deeply unfortunate that I got home and discovered that my brother will be speaking in the third person for the rest of the week AND (as if that weren’t enough) I got an incredibly exciting email from and all the awesome fell completely out of my head. I then started this blog post but there was some kind of dancing/coffee/PC incident (I am not entirely sure of the details but we’re all fine) and it got deleted. Anyway, I have pasted the most exciting bits of the email below:

Please be advised of your article delivery status.
Article Number

Consignment Number

Total Articles
29.11.12 06:32:55
Current Status
Onboard with Driver

Now this might be rather mundane info to many people but for several reasons I am so excited that I can’t possibly do a lick of work today (or most likely tomorrow). Firstly, I have very little contact with the outside world so I consider the postman to be a visitor. Secondly, I have discovered the awesome combination of on-line Christmas shopping, wine and My First Husband’s credit card number (Baby, If you are reading this just remember I am the best you can do okay?) so the contents of the packages are often quite a surprise. Please see below for an example of yesterday’s effort.
Now while this delivery wasn’t a surprise the fact that the cubby would arrive as my motivation left was. It stayed that way until My First Husband moved it outside with the resigned “What makes you do these things” which is one of my favourite quotes around here.

However, the third and most important reason is the parcel post guy. Now we have had the same delivery driver for years and he is generally quite a pleasant chap. I am still slightly miffed from the incident a few years ago when I realised after signing for a parcel the buttons on my shirt were undone and he didn’t even have the decency to look impressed. Seriously. But yesterday was the ultimate conversation
Me (opening the door): Hi
Post guy (handing me the electronic signing thingy): Do you even work?
Me (signing): Ummmm….I work from home a lot.
And he leaves without saying another fucking word.

I was/am absolutely delighted, it is not often that I meet someone worse at small talk than me but the fact that I know he is coming back today is just fantastic.  Even more so considering last night I had a couple of scotches and dyed my hair the colour that once prompted a co-worker to say “Did you mean for it to come out like that?” I really don’t think enough grown women dye their hair a primary colour that glows (I am not being hyperbolous here, it is glowing). Now my beloveds how to answer the door? So far I am considering constructing a facsimile of a lo-jack device around my ankle, or slipping him a note that says “Please contact ASIO, I need immediate extraction…they’re onto me”…..or I suppose I could just write my overdue report. Any suggestions?



  1. Naked, then he'll understand what "work from home" means .... Athena

  2. I sincerely hope I sniffed my fingers after replying to him.