apropos of nothing
December 23, 2005
Box of Rocks
My father called me the other day to tell me he had shipped me a parcel by greyhound.
A box of books.
Which is a perfectly reasonable thing to send someone who is moving across the continent in 12 days.
Right? Right.
I went to the bus depot today to pick up the box of books. I stood in line for an hour.
When I got to the front of the line, I was told that my box of books had been shipped not to the greyhound depot ten blocks from my home, but to the one two suburbs over.
So. I can just lie and say I got the box of books and they were all delightful, right?
Right.
Posted by sasha
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