Bundles of joy
Aug. 24th, 2009 11:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgI received a parcel today; in hindsight I probably should have paid more attention to the sticker which read "Road transport only. Not to be moved by air." I hate it when my powers of observation fail me.
Since the parcel contained only some rather nice looking Elizabeth Arden tea tree cosmetics, I have come to the conclusion that the transport warning was simply a response to the fact that the sender had failed to sign the "I promise this won't blow up" declaration on the postpak.
The gift arrived with a thank you card, which was terribly nice, but I fear somewhat misplaced. The sender was an elderly aunt-in-law, and apart from co-signing the odd birthday and Christmas card I have done nothing whatsoever to deserve her thanks. I plan to send her a thank you card in return and not to attempt further explanations.
Meeting The Neighbours
I am rather glad I didn't choose yesterday to finally snap and shout "SHUT THE F*&K UP" across the fence, despite the provocation of an(other) all-day scream-fest birthday party. Instead, my introduction to the newish neighbours was a reasonably harmless front yard can-we-have-our-ball-back-please? encounter. Except the ball was several balls and a handful of nurf rockets. The trio of mother+2 small boys had knocked on the door but I was too entangled with cats and blankies and things to be bothered with getting up. Knocks at the door here are almost inevitably people attempting to sell things, and spoons are at too much of a premium to gamble thusly.
However, the rattling of the gate and various sounds of invasion around the front of the house got me reluctantly into uggs and dressing gown to face the horde outside, one of whom peered into my window. This was a trifle startling, for the window is well within the property boundary and normally well obscured by a garden terrace.
So it was a pleasant chat, although I may have allowed some of my feelings about The Racket to have shown on my face. I revealed that I was home ill a lot; in return I discovered that the lady's partner was allergic to cats. I assured her that the evil giant cat (CallyClone) who owns the block was not one of mine. The usual stuff.
Since the parcel contained only some rather nice looking Elizabeth Arden tea tree cosmetics, I have come to the conclusion that the transport warning was simply a response to the fact that the sender had failed to sign the "I promise this won't blow up" declaration on the postpak.
The gift arrived with a thank you card, which was terribly nice, but I fear somewhat misplaced. The sender was an elderly aunt-in-law, and apart from co-signing the odd birthday and Christmas card I have done nothing whatsoever to deserve her thanks. I plan to send her a thank you card in return and not to attempt further explanations.
Meeting The Neighbours
I am rather glad I didn't choose yesterday to finally snap and shout "SHUT THE F*&K UP" across the fence, despite the provocation of an(other) all-day scream-fest birthday party. Instead, my introduction to the newish neighbours was a reasonably harmless front yard can-we-have-our-ball-back-please? encounter. Except the ball was several balls and a handful of nurf rockets. The trio of mother+2 small boys had knocked on the door but I was too entangled with cats and blankies and things to be bothered with getting up. Knocks at the door here are almost inevitably people attempting to sell things, and spoons are at too much of a premium to gamble thusly.
However, the rattling of the gate and various sounds of invasion around the front of the house got me reluctantly into uggs and dressing gown to face the horde outside, one of whom peered into my window. This was a trifle startling, for the window is well within the property boundary and normally well obscured by a garden terrace.
So it was a pleasant chat, although I may have allowed some of my feelings about The Racket to have shown on my face. I revealed that I was home ill a lot; in return I discovered that the lady's partner was allergic to cats. I assured her that the evil giant cat (CallyClone) who owns the block was not one of mine. The usual stuff.
