It was Saturday morning and the Little Woman (TLW) was
giving me my marching orders for the day. We had ordered a couch for the den in
February, and the store has to grow the tree for the frame and the cotton for
the fabric and so it is July when it arrives.
“Now go on line to see when they expect to deliver the couch
today.” She ordered. Being a whimp, AND spineless, I said: “Yes Dear,” (You
have to let them know who’s boss.)
I read the order and go on line, put in the website and up
comes the optimistic estimated time of delivery. It says the driver’s name is
555, which I think is a strange name to give any kid, and my heart goes out to
him. The estimated time for the couch to arrive is 12:00 noon, and comes right
on time at 2:45 pm. I go out to the truck to tell them to bring it is through
the back. The driver comes bounding out of the truck up to me all smiles.
“What do you want me to call you” I said, “555, Mr. Five, or
Fives?”
“Huh? You can call me whatever you want I guess.”
555 delivers the couch, and as he is leaving I say:
“Say hello to Mrs. 555!
“I will, I have a little 7 coming soon!”
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