The mailman did something DESPICABLE…
He left my package on the front porch.
The phone rings.
I manage to pry myself out of my crater on the couch, brush the crumbs off my lap and stand.
There’s a lot of activity at the neighbor’s house, I think idly.
Car doors slam, followed by the loud greetings of children and adults.
Still, the phone rings.
I shuffle across the room in my slippers and peer down at the thing that is interrupting my moment of junk eating solitude.
It’s my neighbor. She’s the sweetest old lady, but she might invite me over. I don’t want to come over. I haven’t cracked into my box of Wheat Thins yet.
I stare at the phone until the rings stop. That’s when I look up to see it, through the sliding glass door.
My package! Why is it on the front porch?
The front of the house is laid out in this way.
Sliding glass door—Wall/Front door—Landscape window (all facing the neighbor’s house).
I hide behind the wall and chew my lip. I can’t take my eyes off the package.
I can’t just walk out and grab it. If I walk out and grab it, they’ll see me and invite me over.
I could open the front door and crawl out. But it makes too much noise.
I’ll sneak out the SLIDING GLASS DOOR!
I lie on my stomach and slide the glass door open. It makes a deep whirring sound, but doesn’t draw too much attention. I tug on the screen next but it won’t budge. I try again. Nothing. What the heck?
I stay on the carpet, one arm reaching, attempting to lock-pull or unlock-and-pull the screen door open. Nothing works.
The dog, however, thinks I’m on the floor for him and finds the game we’re playing to be fantastic.
What wizardry is KEEPING THIS SCREEN SHUT.
I ask the dog if he knows how to open the screen. His only input is a tail wag. I scowl at him.
I think maybe I’ll just wait for the neighbor’s get-together to end, or even be underway, then I’ll walk out there like the adult I am and retrieve my package without crawling around the house on all fours.
NO!! IT’S MY PACKAGE AND I WANT IT NOW!
I try the screen door again.
I go to the bathroom, because sometimes you need to go to the bathroom during a secret mission.
I take that time to also change into shorts, before I wear holes in my nice sweats from scuttling around the floor on my hands and knees.
I’m distracted by responsibilities and begin working on my kindergarten lesson for church tonight.
I crawl back out to the front room to get my coloring sheet from the printer, when my eyes catch on the package once again.
I forget all about the coloring sheet.
That package is mine.
I lay on the carpet. I SLIDE that glass door open. I reach my hand up and fiddle and fiddle and fiddle with the lock on the screen door.
I slide the little doodad right and left to ‘unlock’ like the diagram shows. I slide it back. I pull and pull.
Finally, it hits me that I should push the doodad down. I gasp as the door gives way and slides open.
I crawl out, onto the porch on my hands and knees and reach out until I grab the package.
I slide it toward me with a flourish and scramble back inside the house.
I close the screen. I close the sliding glass door. I squeal with delight and show the dog, who looks so pleased.
MISSION: PACKAGE RETRIEVAL
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