CURBSIDE ETIQUETTE

Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess



Below you will find links to dates when new entries are added. The stories will not necessarily be in chronological order, but rather as I remember them. I am dating them so that you can skip to new ones you haven't read since the last time you visited, and so that you are more easily able to find something you found humorous to share with others.
Superman


Perhaps an installment that laughs at myself...


Winston is the name of our Upper Management. I might have pointed that out in a previous installment. Winston is the Royal Beagle that is owned by -or, uh, "belongs to" Mrs. F - the "mom" of the junkyard family. I don't think anyone "owns" Wiston. Winston trots down the road a few times per day to visit the Gertrude, the little Chihuahua who lives with the Crewchief, a junkyard neighbor. One afternoon while Winston was cruising back home from Gertrude's, he'd just left Crewchief's property and was smack-dab in the middle of the road, as always. Some motorist slammed on his brakes and hollered at Crewchief, "Get your dog off the road." Crewchief yelled back, "are you kidding ? He owns the road. Go around the other way." And - he is NOT lying. Winston OWNS the road. Mr. D who lives at the yard and serves as our permanent operator/security guard, got two blinking LED lights to put on Winston's collar so he can be seen at night. Stay tuned for a featured You Tube video...

This afternoon, I walked out into the Heating Oil office to get something out of the desk drawers. I was facing Mrs. F who was turned sideways facing her computer. Son Mr. P was standing about ten feet to my right. I got what I needed and turned around to take a step back toward the Salvage Office. Before I knew what happened, I was flying through the air and landed about two feet away from where I had been standing, flat on the palms of my hands and my knees, with my feet bouncing off of the floor after my knees hit. You have all experienced something traumatic that seems to make personal time stand still, I'm sure. This was one of those split seconds that lasted for at least ten seconds in my personal world. I could hear the windows vibrating, and the repeated sound of my knees landing flat on the floor. Then, I heard Mr. P and Mrs. F asking over and over if I was OK. Their voices were soon drowned out by howls from our Upper Management, Winston. I must've tripped over him - he must've snuck (sneaked?) up behind me and stood behind me undetected. He's quite arthritic, so I don't know if I genuinely hurt him, or if I just scared him. When I realized I'd possibly hurt the dog, I spun around on my knees and tried to rub his head to calm him down. I think I heard Mrs. F mumble to Mr. P that it was typical for me to be more worried about the dog than myself. At that point, I wasn't sure if I was able to walk. After Mrs. F's comment sunk in and my personal timeline returned to the reality around me, I sprung to my feet announcing I was just fine. I guess the true definition of "fine" will be truly realized tomorrow morning.