Heath's first morning inquiry was, Where is your running skirt?
I told him that was a good question. His peaked interest in the Run Love Fleur skirt whereabouts even allowed me a quick, morning email check to see if there was any information. There was. It's MIA. Scanned at the USPS, then *poof!*, vanished into thin air.
This isn't the first time I've dealt with undelivered packages to Whistlestop. A month before Stella was born my ole BFF sent a Baby Bjorn. This time it was scanned out of a South Carolina 'boro, and scanned Delivered in Charlotte. Nope. It never made it.
I am convinced I am going to see someone (possibly one of my more obscure neighbors) wandering the 'hood, wearing both a Baby Bjorn (in my mind it's a guy. And the baby carrier is empty. Or holding a dog, possibly a Pug) and my Run Love Fleur running skirt. Freak.
The good news is customer service at this company is most excellent, so they sent out a new skirt this morning. Crisis averted. Phew. Now I can move on to a new obsession.
Like, why is the pirate house flag we got at the beach so unbelievably large and I can't seem to figure out how to fold it in such a way that makes it work? If I were savvy or crafty or not lazy, I might be able to completely cut and stitch and sew the blasted thing so that it fits. I've considered cutting and ripping it to create a jagged, sea-storm-beaten look.
But when Heath told me this afternoon that he plans to work, and sleep, in my old Jeep Cherokee when he is a teenager, I figured I would just set the flag aside and save it for a house warming present. After all, he will need some art. In his house/office Jeep.
That recently happened to us with a huge box of chocolates my Mom sent from Colorado. They were scanned - and delivery was even attempted. Then the Post office had no clue where they were until, two weeks later, they mysteriously showed up. I think some hungry postal workers were hoping to eat some Rocky Mountain chocolate.
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