A little while ago, at precisely 10:00 am three things happened simultaneously.
I slurpped down the remains of my third cup of coffee.
My watch made its beep-beep sound.
And there was a peck at the door.
Peck? That's strange. Usually there's a knock. Knuckles on wood. The doorbell's broken, you see, which is why I'm used to hearing knuckles rapping instead of a melodious ding-dong. Broken is too strong a word, though. "Out of Order" is more like it. Those of you who have read my Theory of Procrastination* suspect that the Doorbell Job simply hasn't ripened enough to necessitate work. Alas, that's not exactly true. The Doorbell Job is overripe and, in fact, I did attempt to fix it once.
"Attempt" being the operative word here explains why there is rap-rap and not ding-dong.
Back to the unexpected pecking. Engrossed as I was in a food blog describing a recipe for Cherry Clafoutis and not wanting to move lest I shift suddenly three cups of coffee to my lower regions, I called out:
"Who is it?"
"Who," came the reply.
"WHO is it?" I repeated.
"Who," came the reply.
Exasperated, I got up and headed to the front door, "WHO IS IIIIIITTTTT?"
I pulled open the front door and was surprised by a great WHOOOSH as something very big swooped up into the sky, around the big tree and over the roof. As I stood there wondering about the effects of three cups of coffee before 10 am, a single white feather drifted down lazily. Absently, I watched it drift down, down, down, down until it landed on the sidewalk next to a book-sized box.
The side of the box was emblazoned "Amazon.com." On the opposite site was written "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince."
I picked up the box, heavy little sucker. This is going to take some time to read. I then thought about my defunct doorbell and the other hundred or so items on my Saturday To Do List.
What to do, what to do? Book? List? Book? List?
I looked at my To Do list again.
Not ripe enough, I thought, definitely not ripe enough.
Chapter 1, page 1..."It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind."
Ah, been there, done that.
*Theory of Procrastination - What Happened later