This is normal?

Dave got back from Minneapolis safe, sound but exhausted, leaving eight inches of snow in Minnesota for the Santa Ana eighties here in San Diego.  We are already beginning to prepare for the trip home.  Looks like I may need to ship some stuff home, or buy a suitcase.  Think I will ship it, I hate dealing with luggage.  It’s mostly books and games and little things for the goonies, getting ready for Christmas.

I have been doing a lot of shopping online getting ready for the holiday, but sadly, my shipping timing has been a little off.  Normally, when a merchant says that shipping will take 5-10 business days, it really means 10-15 business days.  And when you order something really big that needs to be delivered as freight, the delivery company contacts you to arrange a time and place for drop-off.  Normally.

Nothing about my life is normal.  

You may remember my waxing poetic about my office here in California.  After much discussion, Dave and I decided to replace our beautiful, ornate, but not terribly functional desk in Tullahoma with one exactly like the one we have here.  I ordered the desk from Pottery Barn- I LOVE Pottery Barn, by the way- and was told to expect it in 5-10 business days.  Cool.  I’d be home before it showed up… normally.  Then I got an email telling me that the desk had shipped and I would get a call about delivery!  I called my housekeeper Stephanie ASAP to inform her so that she could tell them, when they called, to bring it next Monday.

She was so relieved to hear from me.  Seems UPS had just delivered three huge heavy boxes and left them in the driveway… yes, my dears, the desk had already arrived and there had been no call about delivery.  I ordered them on Monday and they arrived on Wednesday of the same week.  Now, that’s service, dammit.  

Steph is always on the ball.  She had already called Jake and he was coming after work to bring the boxes into the house.  Cool.  While she had me on the phone, she told me the latest Mamaism.  Friday Stephanie saw we were out of canned cat food and so bought a box of 24 cans.  When she returned on Monday, they were gone.  Apparently Mama fed all 24 cans to the cats over the week end.  They must have been thrilled; they usually only get one can a day each.  Maybe Mama thought she was supposed to feed them breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Why she would think that, since she has been feeding them one can a day since she moved in with us, no one can possibly fathom.  Patches ate herself sick… all over the house, of course.  Ah, well, at least Mama wasn’t trying to assassinate the big screen TV anymore.  Now she’s just trying to kill my cats.

Back to the boxes.  I asked Stephanie to make sure Mama knew Jake was coming to bring them in.  I didn’t want him to frighten her by showing up unannounced.  Steph said Mama already knew Jake was coming, but when I talked to Mama, I took it upon myself to tell her again.  We had a nice, short talk and just before she gave the phone back to Stephanie, I told her yet again to expect Jake.  I then went about the rest of my day, semi-secure that all would be well.

About 7 PM, I got a call from Jake wanting me to do a web search for him and in the course of our conversation, I asked him if he’d had any trouble with the boxes.  The answer was yes and no.  The boxes weren’t all that heavy, but Mama had locked all the doors and windows and wouldn’t let him into the house.  He banged on the door, rang the door bell, tapped on her bedroom window, all to no avail.  He finally just put all the boxes in the garage.

I just hope Mama doesn’t notice the boxes aren’t in the driveway, decide we’ve been robbed, and call the police.

In the meantime, I will be shipping boxes from here before we leave.  Hope we get home before they do.