Karmic forces are playing a crazy game with me this week, jerking me this way and that. I realize this post is long, but please help me make sense of the things that have happened in the last three days. I need you.
First, I ordered customized printed mugs for an event for work. I paid quite a bit forr expedited production and shipping to have them in my hands on Thursday, in time for my Friday event.
Thursday evening, at 5:30, when the mugs still hadn’t arrived, I called UPS. The guy checked the shipping logs and came back with some bad news. “Well,” he said, “there’s a little problem. It seems that whoever shipped this to you entered 80603 instead of 60603.” “What does that mean?” “Well, basically it means that your package was shipped to Colorado instead of Chicago. It’s been marked Out For Delivery all day…but it was out for delivery on a truck in Colorado.”
There was no hope. The mugs weren’t going to even get to the midwest until Monday.
So I wrote Dan, my rep at the mug company, a stern email, demanding an explanation and an offer of recompense. He was mortified by the whole situation, and by the time I walked in on Friday morning, he’d offered me the entire mug shipment for free if I would just forgive him.
So everything was squared away and taken care of. And then, twenty minutes before my meeting began…
The mugs arrived.
Then, we went to buy a bed today.
We have tried so many times to buy a bed since moving in her a year ago. At one point we even bought a bed, before realizing that the top cross bar was going to be digging into the back of Sandy’s head all the time.
Finally we found one we really liked. Well out of our price range, but still, gorgeous. And from Dania, like our beloved desk. I took a deep breath and decided it was time to bite the bullet and pay more than I’d planned because it’s worth at least $300 to me to not have our mattress on the floor.
So, I called Dania and spoke with Dave, who was very encouraging and helpful. We arranged to pick up the bed at Dania on Saturday.
Out we drove to the suburbs. We asked the lady at the front desk if we could take a look at the bed in person before picking it up (we’d only seen it online). She took us to a bed display area, and…
Showed us a bed that was distinctly not the bed we had tried to order.
It seems that Dave ordered us the wrong bed. In fact, I had noticed that the invoice he sent us had a lower price on it, but I figured there must be a sale, so I didn’t even check. (We’re getting right bed next week, with “sorry we fucked up” free delivery.)
After the bed fiasco, Sandy and I head to a deli for lunch. I order a bagel with chive cream cheese and a slice of tomato. Sandy orders turkey pastrami with mustard and sauerkraut. “Sour cream?” asks the Spanish-speaking counterman. It takes a while, but with the help of a chubby Northbrook native behind the counter, sauerkraut is finally clarified to our order-taker.
When we receive the bag with the sandwiches, I’m starving, so while Sandy is paying, I go ahead and get started. My bagel, I find, is carefully prepared with chive cream cheese, a slice of tomato…
Later, Sandy and I are riding our bikes when we have a very slapstick, slo-mo collision on a corner and kind of wobble to a halt. “What the hell were you doing?” I demand, angrily. A woman walking by with her two kids laughs at our predicament and says, “Wow! I thought stuff like that only happened to my four-year-old!” I look up, and discover that the only witness to our incident is not just some random Amazonian blond lady in a sarong, but is in fact…
My Amazonian, sarong-wearing former boss, who I haven’t seen in two years.