I try not to spend too much time imagining what the neighbors think of us, or more specifically, what they think of me, because it has such potential to become one more thing that keeps me up at night (besides worrying about what’s going to happen to Carol out there all alone on The Walking Dead). It’s bad enough I often feel personally responsible when a For Sale sign goes up on my street.
But I’ve recently developed a new weirdness that feeds my what-must-the-neighbors-think paranoia. I check inside our Oberweis milk cooler on the front porch on a daily basis. Sometimes twice a day. And I’m pretty sure, if anyone were to be paying attention, they’d come to the conclusion I’m completely off my nut.
We get our milk delivered by Oberweis Dairy. (It’s an awesome service, btw, and has allowed me to rest mostly assured that the preposterous height my sons have reached has nothing to do with bovine growth hormone.) We also have, more recently, become completely addicted to Amazon Prime. OMG. Free delivery! Of almost anything! (Last week, we ordered ink for a printer and a zester, because they don’t carry zesters at Office Depot or printer ink at Bed Bath and Beyond and I cannot tell you how much rejoicing took place based on the fact I’d just saved myself two errands. And as we all know, everyone needs a zester.)
But here’s my point, finally. Several times in the past six months, the UPS delivery guy has helpfully stashed our small packages in the milk cooler. However, this was only helpful if he happened to be stashing them in there on a Wednesday afternoon, because prior to the development of my milk cooler OCD, I never opened the cooler unless I was expecting to find milk, which only happens on Thursday mornings.
So now, as a result of my addiction to Amazon Prime, I have an addiction to going out to my front porch and opening my milk cooler on the off chance I might find printer ink or a lemon zester inside. After I shared my new addiction with one of my friends, we’ll call her “Margie,” she threatened to start leaving crazy shit inside my cooler just to punk me.
“That’s weird. I didn’t order a stuffed pink rabbit.”
“Who ordered the half-eaten cantaloupe?”
I’ve thought about talking with the UPS guy the next time I actually see him and asking him to please not leave stuff in the milk cooler, but then that would rob me of the Christmas-morning-like-surprise of finding fun things, like a 2014 Page-A-Day calendar or un-orderded stuffed animals, in my milk cooler, which I do kind of enjoy. Perhaps I should just admit I have a problem, but, then...nah. What's a few more For Sale signs.
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