I'm not! I'm getting mine from Amazon at whatever time the poor woobie UPS guys manage to make it to my house :D Awww. I love my UPS guys. Maybe I should bake them cookies.
I am passing my time writing more Iowa. And reading my second of five books about smokejumpers :>
the poor woobie UPS guys manage to make it to my house
You know, I had a sudden vision of UPS guy!John who has Rodney on his route, and is constantly stopping by his house because Rodney compulsively orders books on astrophysics and whatever just for the sheer pleasure of writing insulting comments in the margins.
I am passing my time writing more Iowa. And reading my second of five books about smokejumpers :>
Hurrah on both counts, and my anticipation goes for both as well.
And John wears SHORTS in the summer and he's all tanned from driving around with the door open (if, indeed, UPS trucks have doors . . . I have never really answered that to my satisfaction) and he leaves kitty treats with catnip in them for the cat who sits at the window and an assortment of strange toys for Rodney. A pencil from the Supreme Court with a double ended eraser like a gavel. A small Happy Meal poweranger. Two juggling balls. Once, a potato.
(if, indeed, UPS trucks have doors . . . I have never really answered that to my satisfaction
The ones I've seen have been doorless, though this might not be uniformly true. Maybe it depends what part of the country they're in? I would hate to be a UPS driver in Maine during the winter.
and an assortment of strange toys for Rodney.
And Rodney, attempting to figure out who's responsible for the potato and actual 1980s Transformer on his front step, lies in wait one day instead of ignoring the doorbell like he usually does (or spending all day at work).
And throws back the door with an almighty "HA!" and a very pleased finger wag . . . only to find the most delicious delivery man he's ever seen standing on the other side of the door, smirking. Smirking.
And the finger stops mid-wag and, distantly, Rodney's aware that his mouth is hanging open and he needs to shut it, but his brain is sending him critical mass warnings and he can only stare as the UPS guy hands him a pin shaped like Florida along with this week's books.
Rodney tries to figure out why the guy looks so preternaturally pleased with himself. "Oh. Oh - um. Quark. He's - she's fine. Fine. Shedding." What is he saying?
Sloppy dark hair, tan and kind of sweaty from the warm day. No. wait. Cat. About the cat. Shedding, all over the place. Aviator glasses, the kind that went out in the eighties, and what's going on behind them Rodney has no idea.
"It's spring," he offers feebly, and the delivery guy nods behind his aviators, very slowly as though dealing with someone with brain damage (and he kind of is, Rodney realizes with distant horror).
"So. Uh. Yes. Well, nice to meet you, you probably have - you know. A package." He blushes crimson as soon as the words are out of his mouth. "Packages. Other packages. Packages belonging to - oh hell." He looks at the floor.
(But not before he swears he sees the delivery guy look down his own body and then shoot a glance at Rodney's, and, wow, really? Wow. Rodney's not entirely sure what to do with that. And he really, really hopes he's expecting another delivery tomorrow.)
"I'm Dr. McKay," Rodney says. "Rodney. Dr. Rodney McKay." The delivery guy - John - smirks and brandishes his electronic clipboard. "I know. Already got your autograph. Plus, you know, package has your name on it."
"Yes. Yes. Of course you do. Of course it is." Rodney thinks about smacking himself in the face with John's electronic clipboard, or maybe just dying of terminal humiliation.
I am passing my time writing more Iowa. And reading my second of five books about smokejumpers :>
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You know, I had a sudden vision of UPS guy!John who has Rodney on his route, and is constantly stopping by his house because Rodney compulsively orders books on astrophysics and whatever just for the sheer pleasure of writing insulting comments in the margins.
I am passing my time writing more Iowa. And reading my second of five books about smokejumpers :>
Hurrah on both counts, and my anticipation goes for both as well.
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The ones I've seen have been doorless, though this might not be uniformly true. Maybe it depends what part of the country they're in? I would hate to be a UPS driver in Maine during the winter.
and an assortment of strange toys for Rodney.
And Rodney, attempting to figure out who's responsible for the potato and actual 1980s Transformer on his front step, lies in wait one day instead of ignoring the doorbell like he usually does (or spending all day at work).
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Rodney waves the Florida pin weakly.
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"How's the cat?" the delivery guy asks.
Another question. Cat?
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Rodney tries to figure out why the guy looks so preternaturally pleased with himself. "Oh. Oh - um. Quark. He's - she's fine. Fine. Shedding." What is he saying?
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"It's spring," he offers feebly, and the delivery guy nods behind his aviators, very slowly as though dealing with someone with brain damage (and he kind of is, Rodney realizes with distant horror).
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"Like a genius, or a genius?" John asks with a smirk and a tilt of his head.
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