Special DeliveryI wake to the piercing sound of frantic dog barking. Checking the clock, I see that it is nine in the morning, hardly any reason for such a little dog to get so excited. Scouring about in my still sleeping brain I realize that it is also Thursday, which strikes me as yet another highly implausible explanation for this level of canine excitement. On a lark I look out my window and there it is, the FedEx truck, with its female driver standing somewhat impatiently at my front door.Suddenly my brain is working. My package is here! I leap out of bed and start down the stairs when a thought occurs. Maybe I should put some pants on. Back in the bedroom I throw on a pair of jeans and, almost as an afterthought, grab a sweater. I run down the stairs, pulling on my sweater and swearing at the dog as I go. Throwing open the front door, my worst fears are realized. The FedEx truck is pulling away. �No!� I scream. �Don�t leave! I�m here!� The truck continues its departure as I look down at my feet. No shoes or socks. This is going to hurt. I begin running down the street, waving my arms and screaming at the top of my lungs. Somewhere in the back of my head I�m wondering what this must look like to my neighbors. The FedEx truck makes a left turn onto the street which leads out of my neighborhood. The quick jog which I had been at suddenly becomes a mad dash, with each new step painfully reminding me that in the future, shoes are more important than sweaters. I finally reach the street that the truck has just turned onto. I�m almost hoping to see it driving out of sight. At least then I could go back inside and nurse my wounds. Of course, I have no such luck. As I reach the street and begin to turn the corner, I see the FedEx truck making another turn, this time to the right, down a street which I know to be a cul-de-sac. �So the chase continues.� I think to myself, in a rather resigned fashion. At this point I�ve come too far, looked too foolish, and tore too many holes in my feet to simply admit defeat. Today will be a watershed for me. Today I will take my battle to the man, with his unwavering delivery schedules, and unrealistic drop off times. The unfeeling machinery of Corporate America be damned; today I will have my package. I continue on more slowly now, knowing that I have my prey trapped. Short of driving through somebody�s backyard, the truck has no way out other than the way it came in. Unfortunately, at this slower pace the gravel tearing into my feet is even more annoying. I can feel each individual piece as it greets my naked feet, seeming to say �Morning neighbor! Don�t you wish you lived in the country?� I wait at the entrance to the cul-de-sac, and eventually see the delivery truck returning towards me. Standing in the middle of the road with no shoes or socks on, waving my arms over my head somehow feels, at least in comparison to the rest of my morning�s activities, relatively sane. The truck slowly pulls up next to me. �Were you just making a delivery to 6317 Wind Rider Way?� I ask the driver in the most non-threatening tone I can muster. �Yes.� The driver responds, giving me a look that lets me know I�m clearly not the only one who thinks I�m crazy. �Well, can I get my package?� She slowly turns away from me, obviously still not completely trusting this strange man standing beside her, and reaches back into the depths of her truck, returning quickly with an inconspicuous package, hardly enough for someone to risk the well-being of his feet for. As she hands me the clipboard to sign, she asks the question that puts it all into perspective. �Are you expecting another delivery today?� �Well, I am expecting another package. I�m not sure if it�s coming today or not.� But by now I realize what she�s getting at. There was no reason for me to come tearing out of my house this morning. There was no reason for me to rip holes in my feet as I ran through my neighborhood screaming. There really isn�t any reason for me to be awake at all at this point. She�s coming back to my house later anyway. |