Wednesday 13 May 2009

...but the real life just isn't as fun!

Getting a package from Amazon is a complicated thing for me. Since one of my neighbours is a retired man who is single-handedly responsible for the awesome garden of eden in front of my window, he is usually around whenever the friendly man from the delivering service, well, delivers. And he usually accepts it for me when I am not at home, or as happens more often, if I still lie in bed when the postman rings and the time it would take me to get to the door in a presentable state considerably beats how long he will actually wait for me. And then I will find a friendly note on my door, saying "Herr so and so has your stuff", which then starts the complicated process of ringing his doorbell and not finding him, or him ringing my doorbell and not finding me, occasionally stretched over days. I appreciate that the simple act of accepting it on my behalf spares me the way to the post office, and the postman the way back to the post office with my package in tow, but I would so much rather just hear him ring and go away with the certain knowledge that I will find a friendly piece of yellow paper in my letter box and have the freedom to go to the post office whenever I wish to do so in the following two weeks. It certainly beats sitting at home, not turning on the TV too loudly or listening to music on my headphones because I just KNOW that I won't hear the bell, which is pretty much what I've been doing for the past three days. Also a complication: there is no fixed time. It could happen anytime between 8 AM and 3 PM. Grrr.

I also feel like being judged for the fact that I order that much stuff, but then, food and books are the only things I really spend any money on (and, consequently, book shelves). The long-awaited monthly delivery will contain Juli Zeh's "Schilf" and Jonathan Lethem's "Motherless Brooklyn".

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