And They Called Me The Streak

I thought the title of this blog may capture your attention. Apologies for no posting on Friday, I was experiencing technical difficulties, and by "Technical Difficulties"  I mean last week was the epitome of hell, and I just didn't have time to indulge myself with the blog. 

So here it is a Sunday morning after the said horrendous week, and I am looking forward to a lie-in. It wouldn't be for long as we were expecting Bell to make a service call anywhere between 9:00 AM and Noon.  You can imagine my horror when the phone rings shortly after 7:30. There is a reason the phone is on Rob's side of the bed, and he answered it in a pleasant manner. The caller would have received a "WTF are you thinking calling at this time of morning?" had it been up to me. 

Turns out it's the Bell technician who gleefully announces he will be at the door in 20 minutes.  Are you kidding me, an hour early ? Does the man have a death wish ?  I leap (more stumble actually) from bed and race (crawl painfully) to the shower, muttering threats and cursing Bell under my breath.  

Two minutes (not twenty) Rob throws open the door and announces "The Bell guy is here" and takes off. Marvelous, fucking marvelous. An explanation is probably called for here, We have a small house, a side split and that means the hallway between the bedrooms and bathroom is fully visible from downstairs. No private en-suite bathroom here. So here is my dilemma when I climb out the shower, wrapped in a barely adequate towel I will be forced to deek from the bathroom to my bedroom. The trouble is "deeking" requires agilty, so my trip between said rooms would be less "deeking" and more "streaking". Hell, who am I trying to kid, streaking requires speed, my walk of shame would no doubt be reduced to full blown indecent exposure.

Fortunately my son came to my rescue, as he throws open the bathroom door - I have to start locking that - to add his announcement to his father's. I was at least able to ask him, to grab a nightgown from my bedroom. Still, scantily clad as I was, my preference was not to bump in to the unsuspecting technician, so I stood with my ear pressed against the door, listening for voices, trying to determine his whereabouts.  As I slowly nudge open the door, my son is there for me again. "Run" he hisses at me, "The guy is in the playroom, make a run for it". So with Grady's encouragement I dash - sort of - to the safety of my bedroom. 

I heartily do not recommend this as a way to start your Sunday. Rob informed me afterwards that the tech's parting comment was "I am so glad you guys are early risers!".