First Time For Everything

I keep thinking I'm going to write some nice, cheery Christmas posts. This isn't one of them.

I crawled out of bed this morning, bleary-eyed. My normal routine is, I wash my face, smooth my hair, then have my coffee. Today, I looked in the mirror at my crazy hair. Squinted, in the bright light, not liking what I saw. I didn't even bother to wash my face or to pick up a brush. I just wanted coffee.

I stumbled to the kitchen, and plunked my coffee cup in the microwave. Standing at the sink, I opened the window shutters. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a UPS truck, and a package for here.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes to try to focus. Yep! He was walking to the door. Normally, Michael answers the door. Today, he was still in bed. I knew he'd seen me in the kitchen window, so hoped he wouldn't ring the doorbell and wake Michael up. But he did.

I paused by the front door, waiting for him to walk back to his truck. He didn't. He needed a signature. Mustering up all of the courage I could, I opened the door slightly.

"I needed a signature on this one," he said very cheerily. Without making eye contact, I reached for the pen and mumbled, "it's a good thing I got out of bed."

"I see you driving your little yellow car all around town. Every time I see you I think, hey, I know where that lady lives. You know there aren't too many of those around. I can tell it's you because you always have the top down and I see your red hair."

Why must I have such a friendly UPS man? Imagine that. Me, standing at the door in purple pajamas. No makeup, hair plucked straight out-out-of bed after a long night. I wasn't even wearing a bra. And he recognized me.