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A couple of weeks ago, someone on Wikipedia (I have a pretty good idea which heathen they are but won't out them, just as I hope no one outs me on Wikipedia) edited the Ursula Dronke article, which I have on my watchlist, to the effect that volume 3 of her Elder Edda edition is out. I immediately negotiated a 50/50 split on the predictably jawdropping price with the housemate, and she ordered several books from her wish list at the same time. We also threw in some earplugs of the kind that I like and that drug stores seem to have stopped carrying, and some unscented roll-on deodorant of the brand I like because the supermarkets seem to have stopped carrying that.
A few days later, I was on the computer when there was a clatter at the front door and I found the mail person had left an envelope containing the bottle of earplugs inside the screen door.
Then nothing.
On Saturday I bugged the housemate to investigate what had happened to the rest of the shipment, bearing in mind that I have been waiting 10 years for the Dronke book. And Amazon claimed it had been delivered 5 days before - last Monday.
The housemate called them. I heard her talking quite sweetly and amicably. But the story was . . . it had been shipped with some outfit called OnTrac, and OnTrac was trying to track down the driver, who had written in "left at door" in the "signed for by" space, and would call her cellphone when they had him. Amazon would refund her credit card. She would have to reorder, and would she please call Amazon if the shipment did eventually turn up. Meanwhile we had to drive to the San Jose/San Jose State U library, where we frighten the students by checking out mountains of books, but do have to return them after 3 renewals.
We both figured he could have taken it to the wrong house number. I wondered whether he'd left it on the expanse of concrete in front of the next-door duplex, where it would have been an irresistable theft target. There's also a house of the same number one street over whose mail we occasionally receive in error. And there's a similarly named street in Palo Alto. We would both have been at home when he claimed to have delivered it. So would the excitable dog. Of course there are other possibilities: he lost it and is lying, he sold it and is lying . . . he delivered it when we were all 3 in the backyard or on walkies, and it got stolen off the porch. There have been thefts off porches a block away, but ours has lots of plants to conceal the swag, and this box presumably wasn't big enough to look like a computer or something.
No phone call. But when I reminded her this morning, and she picked up her cellphone - it was vibrating and it was OnTrac. They'd found the driver and he "would try to retrace his route sometime between 9:00 and 5:00" and would we please be home. Otherwise he'd leave a tag on the door.
A friend online put dibs on the original copy of the Dronke if it turned up after all.
And half an hour ago . . . the doorbell rang. It was the guy from one block over. He'd thought it was for his girlfriend. Then they'd decorated it with denials and left it out for re-pickup, then after being informed it wasn't from the Post Office, they'd tried to contact OnTrac - anyway he'd finally decided just to get in the car and bring it over here.
The housemate's home with the crud. She's presumably nonetheless calling Amazon and OnTrac. In some ways I think my online friend has earned the book.
A few days later, I was on the computer when there was a clatter at the front door and I found the mail person had left an envelope containing the bottle of earplugs inside the screen door.
Then nothing.
On Saturday I bugged the housemate to investigate what had happened to the rest of the shipment, bearing in mind that I have been waiting 10 years for the Dronke book. And Amazon claimed it had been delivered 5 days before - last Monday.
The housemate called them. I heard her talking quite sweetly and amicably. But the story was . . . it had been shipped with some outfit called OnTrac, and OnTrac was trying to track down the driver, who had written in "left at door" in the "signed for by" space, and would call her cellphone when they had him. Amazon would refund her credit card. She would have to reorder, and would she please call Amazon if the shipment did eventually turn up. Meanwhile we had to drive to the San Jose/San Jose State U library, where we frighten the students by checking out mountains of books, but do have to return them after 3 renewals.
We both figured he could have taken it to the wrong house number. I wondered whether he'd left it on the expanse of concrete in front of the next-door duplex, where it would have been an irresistable theft target. There's also a house of the same number one street over whose mail we occasionally receive in error. And there's a similarly named street in Palo Alto. We would both have been at home when he claimed to have delivered it. So would the excitable dog. Of course there are other possibilities: he lost it and is lying, he sold it and is lying . . . he delivered it when we were all 3 in the backyard or on walkies, and it got stolen off the porch. There have been thefts off porches a block away, but ours has lots of plants to conceal the swag, and this box presumably wasn't big enough to look like a computer or something.
No phone call. But when I reminded her this morning, and she picked up her cellphone - it was vibrating and it was OnTrac. They'd found the driver and he "would try to retrace his route sometime between 9:00 and 5:00" and would we please be home. Otherwise he'd leave a tag on the door.
A friend online put dibs on the original copy of the Dronke if it turned up after all.
And half an hour ago . . . the doorbell rang. It was the guy from one block over. He'd thought it was for his girlfriend. Then they'd decorated it with denials and left it out for re-pickup, then after being informed it wasn't from the Post Office, they'd tried to contact OnTrac - anyway he'd finally decided just to get in the car and bring it over here.
The housemate's home with the crud. She's presumably nonetheless calling Amazon and OnTrac. In some ways I think my online friend has earned the book.
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