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Tuesday, April 7, 2020

My CovBlog: Day 22


People reading this in the future may laugh, but the highlight of my day was getting delivery of a "care package" sent by Lady Mirjam, the Sweetest. Considering she mailed it from Holland only 10 days ago, and they tried to deliver it Friday, we were both well impressed with the non-Amazon or DHL delivery company!

The reason I didn't get it Friday - I mean, I was home! - was a simple error. I'd called Thursday to confirm my address, they'd asked for my phone number and one digit got lost in translation.

Today, I was determined not to miss the driver. Not knowing what time he'd arrive, I stayed in my trendy, blue plaid jammies set off by a delightful, but casual off-the-shoulder top, but my master plan called for a pair of jeans on the couch and shoes next to a chair. I was in full on fireman-getting-dressed-in-an-emergency mode.

When the buzzer sounded, I would grab the phone-thing and tell the driver I was on the way, but to, "Give me 3 minutes to change and I'll be there in the flashiest of flashes." (Totally borrowed that one from Love Actually. Sorry Richard Curtis and Rowan Atkinson!!)

However, this is Spain, where nothing goes to plan, especially when I'm slowly morphing into the land of the locals.

I kinda thought he'd call in the morning, so I was half-listening for the the buzzer (which I haven't ever heard before!!) so when the damn thing went off, I nearly crapped myself, shot out of the chair and let out a light, manly squeal.

I jumped for the phone, but my plan was out the door before I was.


I had no idea what button to press to open the door, so I pressed all known, including the "*" and the trusty old pound sign "#."

I scanned my emergency preparedness outfit and thought, ah shag it, it will take too long. I grabbed my keys, ran down the stairs (skipping the coronavirus-filled elevator... ewwww,) pushed the door and ran like Forrest Gump to the main entrance.

I didn't know how long the driver would wait, but surely three minutes... When I got to the gate, I heaved and pulled, got it open and stood outside... staring at an empty street...

Noooooooooooooooooooo [several deep breaths] ooooooooooooo--

Oh shit! The side door! At the other side of the community!!

Off I scattered again, waving at a guy leaning on his balcony. He'd seen me run past a minute ago and now I was legging it in the other direction again, like a blue-arsed fly. Of course he didn't wave back, but I like to think he went inside and told his wife that they really needed to move to a community with better-dressed residents.

I got to the side door and yes! He's there, but a bit taken aback as I kinda skidded into the gate while trying to get my key in the lock.

"It's open."

"Yes, I'll sign for it, just have to open the gate for you."

"It's open..."

"What is?"

I pushed on the gate. Totally closed.... pfffftt.

"You have to pull it. It's open."

In my own defense, I have never used this side gate before,,, only discovered it on Saturday, when I walked to check my mailbox... Oh, look! A side gate, that's cool... but who would ever use it??

I pulled on the gate, thinking it would be as heavy/spring-loaded as the main gate, but of course it wasn't and I nearly yanked my shoulder out and the gate clattered off the wall. Poor delivery guy must of thought he was about to be murdered by the (mightily out of breath) Blue-Plaid-Pajama Killer.

He took a step back and then we had a little dance of the social distancing package tradeoff. I apologized, thanked him and asked if I needed to sign anything? He nodded vigorously in the negative and took off for his van.

I stood there, victorious at last, and then remembered coronavirus can live on cardboard boxes for up to a day...

Run, Forrest, Run.

And so, off I ran.


Elephant's Child said...

Is it wrong of me to be smiling at your dilemna? Does it nail me as a witch with a b?
Wrong or not I am smiling. Broadly.
I am really looking forward to hearing about the contents of your parcel. So long as the story doesn't inlude you slicing into yourself rather than the package in true Markesque fashion...

Mark Koopmans said...

@Sue: Haha!! You saying I may be a klutz on occasion? 😇

Elephant's Child said...

Would the w/bitch say something like that?

Elizabeth Seckman said...

I don't think my neighbors are at all surprised by my all-day commitment to pajamas. I've been doing it for years.

How sweet to send a care package. I should send my big sister one. She'd quarantining all alone. :(

Alex J. Cavanaugh said...

Sorry, but that did just give me my first chuckle of the day. Hope those jammies didn't have holes.

CWMartin said...

Well, that story certainly fits the Mark we know and love! Hugs to your Angel of Mercy (virtual ones, natch...)

Lisa said...

I'm with all the above, including the chuckle like Alex and big grin like EC! I too, wear pj's most of the time, or sweat pants. Hope you get lots of good stuff in the box!

Unknown said...

Thanks for sharing, great post!

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