“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 833 (Sunday) – bathrobe double feature

The fine weather has broken and it got chilly. Sunny, cloudy, gray, back into the 60s chilly sampler. There was a shower followed by coffee while sitting on the couch with wet hair and wearing the purple chenille winter bathroom. This leisure activity dragged on and suddenly, it was 10:00 and there was a noise in the driveway.

Like a person expecting a delivery (I was) and also like a TV show nosy neighbor in a bathrobe (guilty as charged), I peeked out from between the curtains at the deck sliders. It wasn’t a UPS truck bearing the two pairs of sandals from Kohl’s. Instead, a big yellow Penske truck had backed in and straddled the shared driveway between my house and the one next door. The truck was long enough that the front part protruded into the street. It seemed weird, but I figured maybe the neighbors on the other side of the shared driveway were moving something big either in or out. 

Heading out to the correct city.

I had barely sat my backside back down on the couch when I heard the gate latch to the deck opened. It sticks and requires effort. There was a knock on the side storm door between deck and enclosed porch. And then there I was, standing at the door with wet hair, wearing a purple bathrobe and talking to a stranger. This is exactly the situation I try to avoid by dressing right away and not sitting around all morning in pajamas and bathrobes.

I asked the guy at the door if I could help him, and he said he had my delivery from IKEA. Um, nope. I like IKEA, but I haven’t been there since about 2014, and there is exactly zero space in the house for anything from IKEA that requires delivery by a massive truck.

He showed me his phone screen, which definitely and clearly showed my house number and street name, and he flipped to the screen with the map and routing to my house. There was one important detail on the line below the street name that I caught on the first screen. I told the guy to back up one screen and pointed out to the delivery guy that the address he needed said Salem and not Lowell. Right house, wrong city. Sorry guys.

The guy headed back to the truck and the other delivery person as I headed back into the house. On my way inside, the delivery guy uttered a very loud f-bomb. It was justifiable, as they were about 35 miles and 45 to 60 minutes off course (depending upon route) and the delivery route was probably now off schedule for the day. Not to mention the cost of more gas for a massive truck.

The truck departed, and Winston, who had lounged in his bed the entire time, decided he wanted to go outside. As I leaned against the front doorway watching Winston, now on full display for the house across the street, the cute guy who drives the big blue truck rolled up. He’s been staying there the past couple weeks. He looked right at me as I leaned in the doorway with my wet hair and my purple bathroom, talking on the phone to Mom, telling her about the delivery. He had the decency to quickly look away, which I appreciated. 

The morning was delivering a double whammy of mortification and punishment for lounging around in a bathrobe. I also noticed the delivery guy had left the gate to the deck open, but that could wait until I was dressed to be addressed. The bathrobe fashion show was over.

When I returned home after an afternoon away, the Kohl's box had been delivered. And I can only wonder what might have happened if I hadn’t been off schedule and was already gone when the Penske truck arrived with the errant delivery. Would I have returned to a deck loaded with IKEA boxes? Hopefully, the delivery required a signature and wouldn’t have been just left without customer contact.