Yesterday, I went on to my Caretaking front
porch to adjust Tropical Santa, and there was an enormous box. I haven’t been able to do any catalog
shopping in years, and everyone I know has already been more than generous to
BC and me. So I assumed it was trash,
forgetting I now live in a neighborhood and people generally don’t do that.
On closer inspection I saw it came from Omaha
Steaks. I’ve never received one of their
packages before, but I'd coveted Ginger’s O.S. Styrofoam coolers when I
lived in Puerto Rico. The label had the
correct address but the wrong name; anyone’s name: mine, the homeowner’s, or the former
homeowners, who keep getting mail.
I brought the box inside
and stared at my sudden moral dilemma.
If you’ve read anything of mine, you’ll know that this was the equivalent
of keeping the fox in the chicken coop or having a recovering alcoholic work at
a winery. I imagine (most) people who
find wallets full of money have at least a momentary thought of what they’d do
with their sudden windfall.
Lucky for me it’s too cold for bar-b-ques. Honesty won out; somebody paid good money for
that gift addressed to Dr. Sue, so I called Customer Service. I admitted my momentary lapse of good judgment
to the gal as I searched for the order number.
Just as quickly she replied,
“Here’s some good news…you
can go ahead and keep the box.”
Blithering my thanks, I prayed for a cooler as I
ripped off the plastic.
There was, there was!! It held a box of four 6-oz Filet Mignons, a
2-pound ham, and a bag of dry ice I accidentally grabbed the wrong way.
Once again, it’s nice to find that I get what I
wish for, eventually. So thanks for the
Bon Apetit, Pat, wherever you are!
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