The UPS Guy Hates Me...

Why?

This is why:



Most of those packages are from the Amazon.com toy sale. It really isn't as many toys as it seems. For some reason Amazon will sometimes just put one toy in per box. And some toys are repeats as I'm donating some to Toys for Tots.

But all these boxes makes for a disgruntled UPS man.

Three of the packages were from Tom's Mom which were filled with presents.

And Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes. It's a tradition. She always sends those cakes to Tom.

Anyhow, I heard the rumble of the UPS truck and my heart fluttered with excitement. Sometimes I'm disappointed as the truck drives past my house. But that day it stopped right in front of the house. I watched as the UPS guy got out of his seat and walk into the back. Then I watched him walk back out and pull the dolly thing out--and then start loading box after box on it.

"Good mail day!" I exclaimed to no one in particuliar. I even clapped my hands.

Then the UPS guy huffed up to the front door as he dragged the boxes behind him. He did not look amused.

Because the day before he dropped off two boxes from Amazon.

And the day before that, one large box.

He's probably all, "Jay-sus, what is WITH this woman?"

Oh, and remember how the UPS guy used to be attractive? I dubbed him Chad?

He's gone.

One day some older guy dropped off my package and I assumed that Chad was sick.

Or on vacation.

But no.

I've never seen Chad again.

I wonder if some housewife took advantage of him and he got fired for it?

Hrm.

Now Chad has been replaced by an older man with thinning hair and a beer gut who I've dubbed Frank.

Frank doesn't smile much either. Chad always smiled as he handed me my package.

Frank sort of shoves them at me. If he even bothers to hand them to me at all. Usually he sets them all by the front door, rings the doorbell and waddles back off to his truck.

Oh, and he reeks of smoke. Which means my packages reek of smoke.

Gross.

Anyhow, yesterday Frank started to set each package by my front door. I stepped out and propped the door open so I could start carrying the packages inside.

Frank did not look amused as he set box after box down.

"One of your boxes is crying," he muttered.

To which I burst into hysterical laughter.

He looked bewildered--as though he had never had someone laugh at something he said before--and then his expression changed to wary. As though he were afraid of me or something.

But I mean I'm sorry.

You don't just tell someone that your box is crying and expect them not to laugh.

I knew exactly what it was.

I bought Natalie a baby doll at the Amazon Toy Sale for $8.99.

As I lifted that particuliar box up I heard it crying at me and giggled again.

Frank once again paused in setting a box down and looked at me as though I had placed my panties on top of my head.

When he set the last box down he hurried off to his truck.

Probably thinking, "Insane housewife who needs to stop shopping!"

I wanted to shout, "But Amazon only does this toy sale once a year. I haven't paid over $10 for anything I've bought. Amazing deals, I tell you! AMAZING!"

But I figured that would just scare him even more and suppose he refuses to give me my packages?

So I kept my mouth shut.

I carried all the boxes inside and then started pulling them open.

I rescued the doll first:



And found that it wasn't crying, but cooing at me.

Then I realized what doll this was. Those creepy dolls at Target who always make noises when I pass them at Target. The ones who always startle me and make me think that my underwear is showing at the top of my pants and that someone is laughing about it.

It kept cooing as I opened the other boxes.

"Shut up," I told it.

But it kept cooing.

So I shoved it in the closet.

I hope there is an off button. Otherwise the doll might just disappear someday and I'll tell Natalie that I have no idea what happened to it.

When Tommy came home from school he noticed the new presents under the tree right away. He notices everything.

Tom's Mom said he could open one so he did. And got Transformers.

Which I have no idea how to transform.

I was staring at the instructions but they weren't making any sense to me. And Tommy was crying because he couldn't Transform it back and I kept saying, "I don't know what I'm doing! I played with Barbies and My Little Ponies growing up. I don't know boy stuff!" And Tommy just got louder and louder.

Of course Tom was working so I couldn't run to him. Usually I always shove Transformers at him and he can fix it in a matter of seconds. Then he'll hand it back to me saying, "Um. That was really easy."

In the end I was able to fix the Transformer--sort of. One part I couldn't figure out but the top part was transformed. Which seemed to keep Tommy happy enough.

I better go finish cleaning. Dinner is currently cooking in the Crock Pot. I'm making shreaded chicken with salsa and sour cream. See, all you do is place chicken breasts in the crock pot. Cover them with salsa. Then 30 minutes before you eat shread them up and mix sour cream in. Cook for 30 more minutes and serve on tortillas.

Sooo good. And easy.