phooey!

When will I learn? It's dangerous to write about bliss and tranquillity because ... well, you never know. I was assured by Purolator yesterday that seven boxes of books would be delivered between 8.30 and 5 today. I had to go out briefly, arranged for Wayson to come over and wait, then waited myself all day - several times standing by the front door, unwilling to go even into the basement to do laundry in case I missed them.

It's nearly 6. Deliveries are over for the day. I've called twice. Yes ma'am, the boxes are on the truck. But they have not arrived here.

And yet it was a glorious day, sunny with a breeze. Had a chat with my shrink and with my ex, who's coming to stay in a few weeks, had lunch with Wayson, did some gardening. And yet I spent this beautiful day in an agony of impatient anticipation - where the @#$# is my book?

6.09. It's here!! The delivery guy said his truck broke down twice. All is forgiven. He delivered seven large boxes of a gorgeous yellow book. Stunning. I had to teach immediately - the brave writers who are reading at the story series on Sunday arrived for a rehearsal - so I haven't had a chance to read it yet.

But it looks perfect.