... or just has impeccable timing.
Say you're sitting at your desk, sipping your coffee - from your preventive coffee mug - the coffee mug plastered all over with photos of your complete H bag collection. The mug that's supposed to remind you that you don't need any more bags in your life. Bag-Buying Contraception, if you will.
The day is already a couple of hours old. So far it's working.
The caffeine is slowly kicking in and your mind is completelt focussed on your work... when it's not drifting to certain very vivid scenes from 300 which you saw again last night that you'd rather not share with your colleagues, and anyway there's no time to get into that right now because the phone rings.
It's your SA, sounding bright and cheerful, and not a little bit like Santa Claus. Because your SA has something special just for you! And apparently really does have mind-reading powers! (You make a mental note not to keep thinking those racy 300 fantasties of yours anymore, just in case.) Within seconds the prophylactic effect of your still very nice but soon to be out of date bag family mug loses it's hold on you.
Oh well. Contraception is never 100% foolproof anyway.
So... the waiting begins.
Days of restlessness and general postal-disaster-angst ensue.
Your nails no longer need cutting, as you've bitten them all down. So, you file a little. Grab another cup of coffee and file some more, occasionally looking out the window and wondering what on earth could be keeping the Fedex guy. What if something happened to him? If there was an accident, how is he now... and more importantly, what happens to all the boxes in his truck? Are the boxes okay? Where on earth is that man? Did he hit a deer? a fallen sequoia? a town quarantine roadblock? Did he meet the love of his life on the way and run off to elope? Where IS HE? He should have been here HOURS ago.
You - who are always notoriously late for everything - decide you ABHOR lateness. Tardiness is a terrible vice. The Eighth Deadly Sin, in your opinion.
You're just imagining all the ways a Fedex guy would be tortured in hell for such offenses, when you hear the magic sound of an engine shutting off and the melodious slam of a commercial delivery truck door.
You throw open the door and beam at the Fedex guy. He seems cuter than when you saw him last. Almost sexy, even. Not 300-quality, but you'd have to have seen him shirtless to tell - but never mind about that now. You're only interested in the BOX he's carrying. A box, just for you...
Say you're sitting at your desk, sipping your coffee - from your preventive coffee mug - the coffee mug plastered all over with photos of your complete H bag collection. The mug that's supposed to remind you that you don't need any more bags in your life. Bag-Buying Contraception, if you will.
The day is already a couple of hours old. So far it's working.
The caffeine is slowly kicking in and your mind is completelt focussed on your work... when it's not drifting to certain very vivid scenes from 300 which you saw again last night that you'd rather not share with your colleagues, and anyway there's no time to get into that right now because the phone rings.
It's your SA, sounding bright and cheerful, and not a little bit like Santa Claus. Because your SA has something special just for you! And apparently really does have mind-reading powers! (You make a mental note not to keep thinking those racy 300 fantasties of yours anymore, just in case.) Within seconds the prophylactic effect of your still very nice but soon to be out of date bag family mug loses it's hold on you.
Oh well. Contraception is never 100% foolproof anyway.
So... the waiting begins.
Days of restlessness and general postal-disaster-angst ensue.
Your nails no longer need cutting, as you've bitten them all down. So, you file a little. Grab another cup of coffee and file some more, occasionally looking out the window and wondering what on earth could be keeping the Fedex guy. What if something happened to him? If there was an accident, how is he now... and more importantly, what happens to all the boxes in his truck? Are the boxes okay? Where on earth is that man? Did he hit a deer? a fallen sequoia? a town quarantine roadblock? Did he meet the love of his life on the way and run off to elope? Where IS HE? He should have been here HOURS ago.
You - who are always notoriously late for everything - decide you ABHOR lateness. Tardiness is a terrible vice. The Eighth Deadly Sin, in your opinion.
You're just imagining all the ways a Fedex guy would be tortured in hell for such offenses, when you hear the magic sound of an engine shutting off and the melodious slam of a commercial delivery truck door.
You throw open the door and beam at the Fedex guy. He seems cuter than when you saw him last. Almost sexy, even. Not 300-quality, but you'd have to have seen him shirtless to tell - but never mind about that now. You're only interested in the BOX he's carrying. A box, just for you...
