Why do these things keep happening?
10:37 pm. Windy and rainy. A knock on my door, soft, almost timid. My dog has no barks left to give.
Usually in such situations, it’s somebody with twitching eyes trying to sell dog food out of a backpack. I’ve learned not to answer those.
I looked through the fishbowl viewer in the door. A young man in a red t-shirt and jeans, who didn’t look startlingly shifty. Then he knocked again, again softly. I put on the chain and he waved what looked like a piece of white paper. When he stepped a little closer, it looked more like a small plastic shipping bag. Like the ones a pharmacy uses.
I stood there, dithering, for a few seconds, until he held it out into the gap from the chain and I took it.
It was a supplement I’d ordered from Walmart - but what I ordered arrived yesterday. Exact same stuff. I checked the order receipt in the web. Maybe I’d accidentally ordered two. Nope. Just one. Already received.
I’m keepin’ it. The heck with them all.
Usually in such situations, it’s somebody with twitching eyes trying to sell dog food out of a backpack. I’ve learned not to answer those.
I looked through the fishbowl viewer in the door. A young man in a red t-shirt and jeans, who didn’t look startlingly shifty. Then he knocked again, again softly. I put on the chain and he waved what looked like a piece of white paper. When he stepped a little closer, it looked more like a small plastic shipping bag. Like the ones a pharmacy uses.
I stood there, dithering, for a few seconds, until he held it out into the gap from the chain and I took it.
It was a supplement I’d ordered from Walmart - but what I ordered arrived yesterday. Exact same stuff. I checked the order receipt in the web. Maybe I’d accidentally ordered two. Nope. Just one. Already received.
I’m keepin’ it. The heck with them all.
