I first published this post on 7/5. Today 7/9, the first package of items arrived.
Amazon told me to just keep the package. So now I have plenty of tissue. Pah-lenty.
You know, I should know better than to interact with people when I am deprived of calories. I'm not the most social person when I'm in a great mood, but I dang sure don't need to be set loose on the world when I'm cranky. Here's what happened today:
I had put in my regular order for some household items the other day. And which service did I use? Amazon. Prime. Fast shipping, baby.
For those who may not know, you can sign up for text alerts regarding your deliveries. And of course, I signed up way back when. Keeps me from missing parcels. If I'm not home, I can have a neighbor hold them for me. Usually, I am at home. So when the text pops up that my items have been delivered, I can go to the door and grab them.Easy peazy and a lazy shopper's boon.
Today, I got the text alert that my order of items was delivered but, when I check, there's nothing outside my door. Huh. I go back and check online to see what's up. Maybe the text was wrong. Nope. My order was showing as delivered and accepted. Accepted by somebody named Mike M___.
I have no idea who this Mike dude is. I'm bad with names so I can't tell right off if he's a neighbor in the building or somewhere else on the block. The building manager hands out a list every now and then, updating with the names of the tenants. I, of course, always lose that list. And by "lose" I mean I throw it out. I can't deal with clutter and I have enough from my writing projects.
So, who in the heck is this Mike? I have no idea but I do know who to ask. If he lives anywhere within a 3-block radius of this building, there's one neighbor who will know something about him. She keeps up with that kind of thing. I go ask and, sure enough, she knows for sure that there is a Mike in the building but she doesn't remember his last name. She doesn't remember exactly which second-floor apartment is his either but she does know there's a little statue of a duck outside the door. Listen, if I ever turn up missing, somebody contact this woman. She will have some kind of intel for sure.
Let me mention that at this point, I'm irritated. Normally, things like this don't faze me. I'm generally a very easy going gal. But not today. Today I am in a post-birthday funk. The voices in my head keep reminding me that I'm older and that the older I get, the harder it is to stay in shape. Those voices had the nerve to tell me that I should lose some weight. I mean... The. Freaking. Nerve. Right?
Yes, I have let the prednisone take over my willpower. And, yes, I need to be a little more disciplined. Also, since apparently prednisone is going to always be some part of my life, I need to stop using it as an excuse and just deal with the extra fat on my ass. But I really don't appreciate my personal Jiminy harping at me until I started covering all the mirrors in my home.
Yes, I covered the one full-length mirror that hangs on the back of my bedroom door. It was getting to be a pain to remember not to look whenever I passed in front of it.
Anyway. I've been severely restricting my caloric intake. This is just to jumpstart things. In a couple of weeks, I will test the waters of a couple hundred more calories but, for now, I am in a low-carb mode and not my usual sunshiney self. Listen, when I measured out the sweetened creamer for my coffee this morning, I actually licked the residue from the spoon. Yeah, that's where I am in my life...Anyway, this leads me back to the part of the story where I practically stomped into the elevator, then down the second-floor hall - hopefully burning some calories. I was on a mission to find a duck statuette. I was going to confront this Mike dude. because I wanted to know where he got off with stealing my delivery. Matter of fact, I was planning to inform him that his theft had caused me some serious emotional suffering. Also, who the heck would steal someone's order of toilet paper and bottled water? Tell me that.
When I spotted the duck, I didn't immediately knock on Mike's door. I kind of put my ear to it for a moment. I wanted to know if Mr. Mike was possibly talking to someone about his theft. Maybe he was even sharing my toilet paper and water, handing out rolls and bottles to his... partners in crime???
I knocked at the door and... nothing. I waited for at least a count of 100, then knocked harder. Finally, I hear someone telling me to "hang on, just a minute". And that's when I realized I might have been just a little bit out of control. I wished I had realized that about 5 minutes earlier because, boy, did I feel like an ass when that door opened.
Mike is an old guy - maybe in his early 80's? - and he's on a walker. Yeah. And he's got the kindest eyes and this really sweet smile. Right then, I could hear my mom turning over in her grave. Shame on me. Just shame.
Of course, Mike didn't have my package. And that made me feel bad enough but when he offered to help me look for it, I died a little inside... I felt like such a thug.
I thanked Mr. Mike and apologized for bothering him. And then I slunk all the way back to my apartment.
I was home for maybe three minutes before I got a real bright idea (you know, the one I should have had first) and called up Amazon. Because someone had accepted my delivery, right?
Guess what? Turns out that there had been some kind of snafu with the delivery service (I won't name names but I will share initials, U.P.S.) For some reason, my delivery never made it to my building. It got to town and then was sent back to the last station where - get this - it was accepted by some worker named Mike M___.
The Amazon rep couldn't even figure out the why of the situation and was as baffled as I was that the packaged had been marked "Delivered" instead of "Returned". Whatever. She was awesome. In addition to refunding the money back to my original payment source, she gave me a complimentary gift card to put towards my next purchase.
Sunshiney, sensible and well-fed me would have used that credit toward that re-purchase of goods. Cranky me ordered a freaking dutch oven...In my defense, I've been wanting one forever. I'm going to need something in which to cook all that carb-free and low-fat protein I'll be eating for a long while to come.
Listen, I know that I handled everything in my life wrong today. That's why I'm going to up my calorie limit a bit asap. Happy me is already misunderstood but cranky me... I'll get kicked right off the planet. Regardless, I don't want to be a meanie. All I was trying to do was shut up those voices in my head
First thing tomorrow, I'm starting my day with some protein. I might have to torture myself long enough to bake some bread or cookies to take up to Mr. Mike, but I know I need more food before I face anyone.
A little D'Angelo always calms me down.