It occurred to me early Monday morning, as I sat on the john, hurling into a garbage can, that this was not the best way to be spending my last hours in Toronto. What the fuck is with me and the sudden, violent, simultaneous expulsions this year?? GAH. I had originally planned quite a vigorous day of activity for Monday, but as I barfed and otherwise eliminated all nutrients and available water from my system, my priorities shrank to two key items:
1. Make it to (and through) my own effing play reading Monday afternoon ; and
2. Make sure UPS picked up the two boxes I needed to ship to Vancouver Monday night.
Fortunately, the reading was a very informal "cool chicks sittin' around the table reading the thing so I could hear the results of 16 weeks of government funding out loud" kind of deal, so if I needed to sprint to the ladies shitter at any time, I could. As it turns out, the box of Immodium I took before the reading precluded any wild, inappropriate defecation. Three days later, it's still working. Thanks, Immodium. You can let go now.
Then Monday night, UPS was scheduled to come pick up my two boxes between 5:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m. When I got home at 4:00 p.m. I sealed the boxes up and nearly passed out hauling them upstairs. It took me nearly an hour. I then installed myself on the couch with my Gatorade and a book about dog behaviour. I had to skip a lot of the questions in the book, because they involved dogs eating cat shit and then licking you and I didn't want to puke again. Even when I did read a chapter, I absorbed no information whatsoever, because I was checking the door for the UPS guy every two minutes. I did, however, absorb some much-needed sodium and potassium.
3 hours passed. The lovely roommates came home and began preparations for dinner. Everyone was there. Except UPS. I finally called them at 8:30 p.m. and asked what had happened. "Oh," the customer service representative said, "well, the driver was running behind."
"Oh - so he'll be here later?"
"Well, no. He didn't make it by the deadline, so . . ."
"So he didn't come at ALL?"
"Well, I can have him come by tomorrow!" she said brightly.
"Yeah. I'm leaving for the airport at 10 a.m." I told her, "can he come before that?"
"Oh dear. Well, it seems like we're in quite a pickle!"
Mmm . . . pickles.
My roommates generously offered to deal with the pickup. I got off the phone, then turned off the porch light in despair. Minutes later, there was a knock at the door. My heart leapt. Could it be . . . UPS?? It was! And sure, he was late and didn't have a waybill and didn't leave me a tracking number, but at least the boxes were away! I sucked hungrily at my Gatorade bottle and headed into the kitchen to relay my tale of shipping triumph to Grmi.
"Are you sure he was from UPS?" Grmi joked as he shaped ground beef into patties.
"Heh heh . . . oh. Huh."
In that moment, I realized I hadn't seen the van. I didn't fill out a waybill. I had no tracking number and I had paid by cheque. In all probability, this guy was actually from UPS. But there was also the possibility that, in my weakened state, I had just given our good linens, some small household appliances and several hundred dollars worth of books, yarn and DVDs to some random guy in a brown toque.
As you might imagine, I spent much of my last hour in Toronto on Tuesday phoning UPS. And I have to hand to them - those people rolled into ACTION. By the time I got home to my beloved, I'd gotten both the tracking numbers AND a separate call apologizing for the inconvenience AND, even though I paid for standard shipping, they switched it to "express" and I got my boxes first thing yesterday morning. So thank you, UPS! Thank you for not making off with Padu's future sweater and my Joss Whedon collection. Thank you for showing me what brown can do. You are good kind people.
As Jeba pointed out in her comment on the last post, I neglected to display the beautiful knitting needle carrier she gave me for our birthday! Because UPS rocks, I can show it to you now! And you may gaze in awe and envy. DO IT!
While I'm at it, I ALSO did not take photos of the lovely knitting tote that Deye and Grmi gave me for my birthday. As you can see, it is very fine and the mix of tropical print and Anne of Green Gables-esque gingham suits me to a T. Plus, it has a pocket at the front. Where you can keep your weed.
Yes, those are VHS copies of Bring It On and Centre Stage on the shelf behind the bag. Shut it.
So I'm back in Vancouver! Reunited with my beaverancée! Ready for the next adventure! Right after I take this nap. And watch some Buffy.
