We have been waiting for my brother's replacement phone to arrive. His seemed to turn into a brick the other day... They promised overnight shipment for it and then did a song and dance about what overnight means to them.
To me, overnight means that if you order it on Monday night, overnight it should travel to you and somehow get into your hands by close of business Tuesday. 2 or 3 days later, not including weekends, slow drivers, and all the lame excuses in the world simply do not cut it.
If you don't mean overnight literally, then call your "service" something else that is more indicative of the actual delivery style you employ, pretty please and thank you.
FedEx is world renowned for very fast shipping, so why did that mean nearly 2 weeks in transit to get to me? (BTW - their main hub is less than 2 hours from my house.) I didn't even get a choice on service there. What FedEx calls ground service takes two weeks. What UPS calls ground service might take a week, and it's cheaper. It makes me feel like I'm ordering something off a TV commercial back in the 80s - it'll take 4-6 weeks for delivery.
With all the modern technology we have, you have it in stock, and we have airplanes... REALLY???
Pony Express would have made a better showing, I kid you not.
So we waited half the day to find out there is no way his delivery will take place before, at the earliest, lunchtime tomorrow. Oh, what a slippery way to describe the timetable. Lunchtime could be whenever they say it is. "But I didn't have time to eat my lunch until 4!" His replacement is shrinkwrapped to a bunch of other stuff-in-delivery-limbo until they decide to let it go.
I've got to hand it to him -- he is handling his apparent frustration well. He was calm when we last spoke, but I could hear the steam rising.
Me? I'd have had a screaming hissy fit in the privacy of my home. I try to avoid it in the presence of my dog. He's a bit sensitive. He runs to hide under the bed if I raise my voice, even if I'm just yelling after whacking my little toe yet again on something as I pass by. Poor thing. Maybe I'm Medusa scary or something.
It's better to vent than hold it in. You know what happens when a volcano doesn't vent... Explosion.
On the flip side, the delay is, well, delaying something we needed to be doing instead of waiting around, about 9 hours ago. I'm not upset about this. I've got free time anyway. It's summer and I've got these glorious but completely unpaid days off. Oh wait, they were confiscated by the circuit court for jury duty.
Sing ye not loudly of your freedom, little bird, lest the rotund and toothy cat smite thee and bite off thy feathery noggin.
My fabric did arrive. And when I took it out, by the sheer weight of the stuff I thought I had triple-overestimated the yardage I'd needed. I thought, how dumb. I've messed up the math once again. That's just like me. I'm smart, but math terrifies me.
However.... I followed the directions and measurements precisely, and it turns out that somebody screwed up in the instructions. There was more fabric in their design than a decent blanket, and it didn't drape... it hung. Heavily. Like a lead muumuu.
This was supposed to be a light and airy wrap that could be compacted into a scarf or worn even as a cardigan or poncho, depending upon the arrangement.
Echoing Westley, the Dread Pirate Roberts:
"Oh dear God, what is that THING?"
I tried to cut it down, thinking that was the problem. Nope. Still horrible. And now it isn't long enough to wrap around me correctly. So I've got what looks like one huge cut of red knit jersey, in a few separate large pieces. I don't know what to do with them. I've got one 6 foot long piece of black knit jersey as well, that was supposed to be a copy of this project. I didn't cut it, but I don't know what to do with it now.
Geez, I can't help that I've got big boobs. I tried to get rid of them. But y'all, sometimes they grow back. With a speedy vengeance. Suffice to say Destiny had plans for me to apparently nurse several babies and now she's getting even because it didn't happen. Anyway, that boobage means that it takes more fabric to wrap around my top...
Grrr... I feel like such a failure right now. Conquered by a length of red fabric. Might as well have drawn it tightly around my throat.
If you have any suggestions about what to do with the proof of my failure, please post in the comments section. I'll try to bite back on my self-annoyance long enough to consider it.