I’m camped out in my livingroom. This situation is only partly my choice. I prefer to be camping in my bedroom. Unfortunately, the bed deliverer from Macy’s doesn’t like to follow orders like “Yes, please, set up the bed.” He apparently didn’t understand anything in English that amounted to work. He understood everything else we said, even the Spanish he exchanged with my husband. Apparently, “yes, set it up, please” translates to lean it against the wall.
I have two knives sitting on my bed which is now on the floor. This is because knives take walks. Where they end up is never where you expect them. Beside the knives is the attachment to the vacuum. I bought a new vacuum. It arrived in one piece with no parts. It had no instructions. It cost five times the price of my attachment. The attachment, you would think, would attach. Unfortunately, it isn’t an attachment. It is a collection of parts. You look at them and think, how do these attach? So being directly evolved from monkeys, Curious George comes to mind, I decide to attach them. Wrong choice. Now I have attachments that attach correctly lying on the instructions with the attachment that don’t attach correctly on the bed with the knives beside the vacuum with no instructions and where I want them is in the kitchen where the three inches of dust that wafted down into my nose all night lies atop the cabinets. My husband plans to resolve this issue over coffee. I should kiss him.
I don’t expect to make love to my husband any time soon-too many knives involved. Besides, it seems he has a headache. My pink dress is now a flag hanging from the dining room lamp that has delivered my husband three bangs in under a half hour-would that I could do so well. This is because UPS decided to call at 7:30 am and tell me my phone number is incorrect because he has a package for me he doesn’t want to deliver. He’s already delivered one package to this address with this incorrect number, but since we’re camped out he decided to call.
So when the phone rang and the jig began to play, my husband went looking for my incorrect cell phone among all the tools. By the time he found it, the cell phone blooped and recorded the message from UPS. So I called UPS back and argued with a machine for 15 minutes over whether or not I wanted to talk to an agent. UPS insisted I wanted to send a package when what I really wanted to do was get my package but I didn’t have the twenty digit number. So I got the the twenty digit number and said it as fast as I could because it’s a race with UPS to see how fast you can not deliver a package, even by number to an incorrect phone. I wonder if Verizon realizes that their phone is incorrect? Maybe they will attach correctness and send me instructions.
I expect you can tell I am a bit grouchy at the moment. This is not because I have the typical princess and the pea camping bed, or because of the incorrect phone package games of the morning, or the walking knives, but because I hurt. I’ve fallen off the ladder several times while climbing toward my dreams. My husband isn’t in much better condition-he’s tried to hug a fan but it kept whacking him. He’s decided that he will try hugging something more friendly-perhaps I should put the knives away.
Oops, the plumber has arrived at my incorrect address-he called my husband’s correct cell phone and everything is hunky dory there, despite the blow up yesterday over whether or not we were allowed to have toilets while camping. Not only has he installed the toilets, he’s also grouted them in our choice of colors. But that is another story.
Maybe I’ll be back with more camping fun later, or maybe not, misdirection and trail signs are on the agenda for the day. And more knives. Oh, and if I haven’t been in touch recently, it’s because I have an incorrect address that should be righted, soon.