When we got home from our first trip to Phil's Barbeque in San Diego, with some friends who were in San Diego to see the Rolling Stones, there was a package and a note between the screen door and the front door.
It was from the place where my package had been mistakenly delivered back on the first of the month. It said his kids must have brought the mail in and just set it down. Okay. When I set the mail down, it's usually someplace that I don't overlook. At least until it hits the official "paperwork pile".
So, they still live there, they weren't evicted and even though the mailman says he spoke to them, I'm having serious doubts.
But all is good, I have my blades now. As a matter of fact, I have a LOT of blades now, since I re-ordered them when I realized the first order wasn't going to quickly appear at my door. Bring on the cardstock!
(I have absolutely no ambition today, I think this comes from having way too much to do; "to do list overload" is what I'd call it - I told Brian I think going outside and watching the grass grow is about as ambitious as I feel right now.)
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