Ever since I was about 11 or 12 years old, I have been excited by the prospect of receiving mail. In high school, when I had 30 or 40 penpals, my penfriends and I used to say that we were “chained to our mailboxes.”
This week, I have been waiting on packages–3 books and a DVD. Two of the books are advance review copies–one from Random House and one from Chronicle Books, and the other two are items I ordered from Ebay and from an international seller. I wondered which would be the first to arrive. Every day this week I’ve anxiously anticipated the sound of the mail dropping through the slot. Was there a thud? Or just the little flutter and smack of bills and circulars? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday there were no thuds, or if there were, they were teases–items for our neighbors or for Ezra or for Rainer. Today, about twenty minutes ago, there was a thud. For me. This is what arrived.
I hear your shock. Of course, the moment it arrived I read the first few pages, but then I had to put it down. 1: I have work to do. Oh, and 2: There was another thud! (Yes, the 2nd thud came later. I think the mailman delivers the lighter items first and then goes back to the truck to collect and deliver any larger or more oddly-shaped packages before moving on to the next part of his route.) This also arrived today, from Random House:
The copy of Rapture was the item I ordered from Ebay. So, two down and two to go.