WARNING: Tony, do not read this post. It's about your Christmas present and I know how you prefer to be surprised!
While flying, I like to periodically check the flight tracker found on the mini screen in front of me. On our recent flight home from Chicago, Mom texted me, I see you're at the airport! I hurried and checked the flight tracker, Well actually we've just flown over Omaha Nebraska, I texted back.
This morning, I received email notification that a Christmas package I'd ordered for Tony would be arriving by tomorrow's end of the day.
These items are on the way! The bold lettering announced alongside an offer to Track Your Order, Order Number: 083357664932.
How exciting. Really--with a plastic card and a computer, I can bring magical gifts to my home.
I clicked on the Track Your Order, and the UPS website appeared.
In my mind's eye, a Delta flight tracker map appeared with dots and arrows originating in San Francisco California, where pastry chef Jean Yves Charon created his delectable pastries, then wrapped and froze them for delivery. A worker pulled out several boxes of frozen pastries, loaded them into a van and drove them to the UPS warehouses where a UPS dock worker loaded my husband's Christmas gift in the still dark morning. The truck driver pulled out at 4:36 a.m.
The Christmas spirit insisted that I see the UPS truck driver as Santa, and the diesel as Santa's sleigh, following the arrow across two states.
While flying, I like to periodically check the flight tracker found on the mini screen in front of me. On our recent flight home from Chicago, Mom texted me, I see you're at the airport! I hurried and checked the flight tracker, Well actually we've just flown over Omaha Nebraska, I texted back.
This morning, I received email notification that a Christmas package I'd ordered for Tony would be arriving by tomorrow's end of the day.
These items are on the way! The bold lettering announced alongside an offer to Track Your Order, Order Number: 083357664932.
How exciting. Really--with a plastic card and a computer, I can bring magical gifts to my home.
I clicked on the Track Your Order, and the UPS website appeared.
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The Christmas spirit insisted that I see the UPS truck driver as Santa, and the diesel as Santa's sleigh, following the arrow across two states.
The unfortunate coincidence is that the package is scheduled for delivery on the day Tony works at home, and on the day I will be flying to meet my mom and sister to celebrate Mom's birthday.
The big brown boxy UPS will lumber down the street, crank its gears into park, the deliverer will most likely run to the door, ring the bell and disappear. Tony, well acquainted with the delivery truck noise, will saunter from his study, open the door, find the white box, and smile when he recognizes the traditional Christmas pastry box. He'll carry it to the freezer, his taste buds watering, thankful that Christmas lasts even longer when someone's been thinking about him already.
Postscript: Indeed, the above scenario happened exactly as projected above. When Tony texted me to ask about the package, I tried to fool him by making up a story. A story, a lie, a coverup, didn't work, (as a non-truth rarely works), as my imaginary story said it was for my daughter sent by her father in law. But the package was addressed to you and the invoice says it was ordered by you, he writes. I concede, Put them in the freezer and you can't open until Christmas day. I'm pretty sure he'll comply.
Postscript: Indeed, the above scenario happened exactly as projected above. When Tony texted me to ask about the package, I tried to fool him by making up a story. A story, a lie, a coverup, didn't work, (as a non-truth rarely works), as my imaginary story said it was for my daughter sent by her father in law. But the package was addressed to you and the invoice says it was ordered by you, he writes. I concede, Put them in the freezer and you can't open until Christmas day. I'm pretty sure he'll comply.
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