Somebody bashed on the doorknocker at eight o'clock this morning.
This was not expected.
I'd been up for a full five minutes and was just scooping the first coffee beans of the day into the grinder. But even my poor un-caffeinated brain was able to determine that it could only be the telephone man or the accountant, both of whom were supposed to visit yesterday and neither of whom had. Leaving the coffee with understandable regret, I went to the door and considered my garment situation on the way. I hadn't got to the dressing part of the morning yet, but I was covered in flannel pajamas. I guess this is the sort of situation that these screwball pajamas were designed for.
It was the telephone man, who didn't laugh at me and hijinks did not ensue.
He only wanted to see my NID.
145 words | October 11, 2005 08:27 PM | Real true story