The cat, the postal service and the outside bin

31 Aug
This morning L1 was nestled in her usual position lying on the sofa, covered with ‘blanket’ (duvet) and ‘cushion’ (pillow – the kids have moved on from these slight misnamings but M and I clearly have not), the cat sprawled on top of her, purring loudly, with the brilliant Arthur on the TV (after three: every day when you’re walking down the street, everybody that you meet with have a different point of view).  I had mislaid the lid of my pre-work necessity, the Starbucks sealable coffee flask.  There was banging and confusion from the kitchen (‘it went in the dishwasher! Where has it gone during the cycle! It’s not in the bottom! It’s not on the top rack! It’s not on the bottom rack! It’s 6.58! Etc. Eventually I found it, in the top rack, but this is a digression) while L1 tried to make contact with me from her under-cat position.  I couldn’t hear her due to the dishwasher rattling; she couldn’t move to me (apparently) due to weight of cat.  It was a stand-off that nearly ended in disaster.
L2 has bought Subbuteo with his birthday money.  Savvy shopper M saved us a tenner by ordering from Amazon; the delivery information made clear it was On Its Way.  L1’s communication attempts this morning, it rapidly became clear, related to the aborted Subbuteo delivery attempt.  I had missed Mr Postman.  The dread red card was through the letterbox; I was irritated due to the fact that they hadn’t rung the doorbell, leaving the only mark of their postal presence as the red card footprint.
And then I remembered.  Part, of course, of the new postal World Order, is not returning your parcel to the post office but putting it somewhere safe for you to find at your leisure.  Our card put it succinctly, if worryingly: ‘In the dustbin’.
L2’s Subbuteo! In the dustbin! Something had, of course, to be immediately done. For starters, standards on the inside of the bin are low, exceptionally so.  And for dessert, Friday is Bank Holiday Week Bin Day – what if the bin men had an over-zealous attack and chose to check out our actual bin rather than just relying on the already-extracted bags, thus condemning brand new Subbuteo to an early grave?  It was due to thoughts such as these that I, dressed in work attire, accessed the large outdoor bin to extract Subbuteo, fortunately entirely unblemished.
I, however, was not entirely unblemished.  I slid the brick weight down the back of the large bin while extracting Subbuteo and found myself hanging sideways in the unpruned thorn bush in order to rescue it.  This proved a precursor for a day which has subsequently qualified as ‘must try harder’ (barring a few notable bright spots, of course), so its time to go to bed, I think.

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