So stupid the other stupid people will worship at my feet. And I will kick them. Ha.
So, yeah. Remember all those times I posted about how stupid I was? Remember how I have a tag just for how stupid I am? Well, chéries, I have done it again.
As I may previously have mentioned, we have been getting Abel & Cole deliveries. Very nice, very nice indeed, all part of a cunning plan IN MY MIND. So far, so good. Naturally, I opted not to get anything delivered over Christmas because we weren't here much. But we got back on 28th December, and I remember thinking, "Hmm, it's a shame I didn't arrange to get anything delivered this Thursday," which is when our deliveries fall (though looking back, it was New Year's Day, so it's not altogether surprising). But we coped for the week, and I was looking forward to today, when we would get a delivery. Fresh veg and eggs - excellent.
I pottered home in my usual fashion, and rescued my box of groceries from the flower bed where it was tucked away far, far from prying eyes. I carted my box of groceries up the two flights of stairs that are as the drawbridge and portcullis to Fangirl Towers.
This, my poppets, is where my tale takes a sinister, nay, impenetrable turn (we just watched Jonathan Creek; imagine some melodramatic organ music at this point).
There, outside our front door, placid and innocent, sat a box of vegetables. And two boxes of half a dozen eggs. "What sorcery is this?!" quoth I, much taken aback. "How has such a dastardly deed been accomplished? And why, why would our delivery man (and there is but the one, for that is the way A&C operate) deliver twice? Was he perhaps the victim of an unfortunate accident, depriving him of his memory and leading to him duplicating his day's work?" In an attempt to ferret out the truth behind these disturbing events, I closely inspected the two delivery notes. "Perhaps," thought I, "a more sensible solution would be that one was misdelivered or, rather embarrassingly, the one outside was not for us!" But both delivery notes had my name and address on. I do not hesitate to say that I could not fathom this one out.
And then I noticed something.
The beautifully structured and perfectly clean box outside our front door had a delivery note that said 8 January 2009. The rather damp and dilapidated box from the flower bed had a delivery note that said... well, I'm sure you can guess. As well it's been so cold, really.
Anyway, still not entirely sure how it happened (other than, obviously, my own stupidity and useless memory - may I, at this point, direct you towards my previous lament on the subject), and actually quite surprised that they delivered anything on New Year's Day (all the more so, as I think about it, because I'm sure I didn't leave FT all day, but whatever), but it just goes to show that me being stupid is something by way of being a permanent fixture. Tragically for me. And all those who sail with me.
- In freakier news, I'm using a Nivea spray deodorant at the moment, and it seems to be sticking my hair together each time I use it. Weird. [ETA: I mean, my actual hair, where it hangs down my back. It's not like I've got a forest growing under there or anything...]
- The whole thing in the Middle East is a bit unsettling. Not that the Middle East isn't ever settling, but whatever.
- Friday tomorrow - woo!!
As I may previously have mentioned, we have been getting Abel & Cole deliveries. Very nice, very nice indeed, all part of a cunning plan IN MY MIND. So far, so good. Naturally, I opted not to get anything delivered over Christmas because we weren't here much. But we got back on 28th December, and I remember thinking, "Hmm, it's a shame I didn't arrange to get anything delivered this Thursday," which is when our deliveries fall (though looking back, it was New Year's Day, so it's not altogether surprising). But we coped for the week, and I was looking forward to today, when we would get a delivery. Fresh veg and eggs - excellent.
I pottered home in my usual fashion, and rescued my box of groceries from the flower bed where it was tucked away far, far from prying eyes. I carted my box of groceries up the two flights of stairs that are as the drawbridge and portcullis to Fangirl Towers.
This, my poppets, is where my tale takes a sinister, nay, impenetrable turn (we just watched Jonathan Creek; imagine some melodramatic organ music at this point).
There, outside our front door, placid and innocent, sat a box of vegetables. And two boxes of half a dozen eggs. "What sorcery is this?!" quoth I, much taken aback. "How has such a dastardly deed been accomplished? And why, why would our delivery man (and there is but the one, for that is the way A&C operate) deliver twice? Was he perhaps the victim of an unfortunate accident, depriving him of his memory and leading to him duplicating his day's work?" In an attempt to ferret out the truth behind these disturbing events, I closely inspected the two delivery notes. "Perhaps," thought I, "a more sensible solution would be that one was misdelivered or, rather embarrassingly, the one outside was not for us!" But both delivery notes had my name and address on. I do not hesitate to say that I could not fathom this one out.
And then I noticed something.
The beautifully structured and perfectly clean box outside our front door had a delivery note that said 8 January 2009. The rather damp and dilapidated box from the flower bed had a delivery note that said... well, I'm sure you can guess. As well it's been so cold, really.
Anyway, still not entirely sure how it happened (other than, obviously, my own stupidity and useless memory - may I, at this point, direct you towards my previous lament on the subject), and actually quite surprised that they delivered anything on New Year's Day (all the more so, as I think about it, because I'm sure I didn't leave FT all day, but whatever), but it just goes to show that me being stupid is something by way of being a permanent fixture. Tragically for me. And all those who sail with me.
- In freakier news, I'm using a Nivea spray deodorant at the moment, and it seems to be sticking my hair together each time I use it. Weird. [ETA: I mean, my actual hair, where it hangs down my back. It's not like I've got a forest growing under there or anything...]
- The whole thing in the Middle East is a bit unsettling. Not that the Middle East isn't ever settling, but whatever.
- Friday tomorrow - woo!!