It was one of those mornings where everything was going exactly as it should.
Don’t you just love those?
The Cherubs had arisen all by themselves, ate their breakfasts with little fuss and boarded their respective school busses, right on schedule.
I had the kitchen tidied up from the morning tornado in practically no time and changed from my pajamas into my workout wear in a flash.
I locked up Macy the Geriatric Weimaraner in her private suite, where she could do minimal harm, save for the occasional Leaky Bladder Syndrome Episode, at which I am exceptionally adept with dealing.
I even remembered to put the twelve bags full of clothing and two boxes of books on the front porch for the donation truck to pick up. Of this, I was exceptionally proud. I had, on more than one occasion, forgotten to do so, necessitating their return to the garage for another week and raising the ire of my groom.
But not today.
Today, I carefully placed all of the sorted and labeled bags and boxes on the porch. Perfectionist that I am, I fussed with them a bit so that they would be symmetrically arranged between my decorative hurricane candle holders and the white rocking chairs which were permanent fixtures at the entryway.
What? Charitable giving is not a haphazard affair, in my book.
Anyway. Satisfied that the donations were as symmetrical as they’d ever be, I hopped into the Jeep and drove off to my Friday Pilates Reformer class, congratulating myself on what a tight ship I was running.
And an hour and a half later, I returned, my high self-image only slightly tarnished by the physical torture that I had endured. My spirits brightened as I rounded the bend and caught sight of my porch, which had evidently been visited by the donation truck.
I parked the Jeep in the garage, took a moment to marvel at the space within that was now free of the bags and boxes that it had held for more than a month, and meandered back out to the porch for one last look-see.
Twelve bags? Gone.
Two boxes? Gone.
Hurricane candle holders and white rocking chairs? Gone and gone.
Uhhhhh…come again?
I did an immediate double-take and stared at my porch, my eyes narrowed to slits.
What the?
I had been completely cleaned out.
Unbelievable.
I blinked and reflected on the manner in which I had left the donations. In my mind, the bagging and boxing left little to the imagination as to what should be taken and what should be left.
I mean, my potted plants were still on the front steps leading up to the porch. Was I supposed to be thankful that they were not swept up with the rest?
Was I expected to sing the Hallelujah Chorus at the fact that the windows overlooking the front porch were still nestled in their panes?
Thank goodness it was not a Saturday and The Cherubs had not been lolling about in the rockers as they are so fond of doing. I shudder to think of the scene that might have ensued if they had been.
So now, friends, I am engaged in a seemingly endless game of phone tag with the donation pickup service in what appears to be a hopeless quest to reclaim my goods.
Will they be returned? Only time will tell. I await a phone call this afternoon that should definitively tell me what the freakin’ frack has happened to my stuff.
Wish me well, won’t you?
*******UPDATE********
For the dramatic conclusion to this story, visit my Facebook page.
Oh nooooo!!!! I knew the fate of the chairs when you wrote “were permanent fixtures”. Good luck. If I see them somewhere on some stylish porch, I will advise.
Humph. Probably on the porch of some stylish donation truck driver, in my humble opinion.
Oh, No!!!!!
Yeah. Should’ve left the Geriatric Weimaraner on the porch.
Is it bad that I chuckled….just a little bit….
Laura, I admit that there is a certain degree of hilarity in all of this. Especially if it’s not *your* porch…
Oh Sue….. Sorry but I laughed my butt off! That is something that would totally happen to me. Good luck I hope you get your stuff back!!
Kerri
It’s 9:00, Kerri…do YOU know where your welcome mat is?
Oh, that sucks. That’s why I always pile my donation crap in front of the garage door. Not that I have much to lift from my front stoop (except a wine-y welcome sign). Sooo, maybe the driver wasn’t the brightest. Or maybe he just thought you were really generous?
In my attempt to stay under 500(ish) words, I neglected to mention that it was raining. Was trying to be all polite and stuff by protecting the goods on the porch. And yeah…not the brightest bulb, I’d say.
They must have thought, why how generous of this household! Two perfectly good rocking chairs and candle holders!
(good luck, I hope you get them back)
I don’t think they thought, period. And therein lies the problem.
Oh. My. GOD!! That definately is the driver’s issue! IF the chairs were sitting next to each other with a NOTE to take them, OK. BUT, we all know YOU didn’t yell!! Just hope you didn’t punch in one of those panes of glass!
. Good luck!
Nope. No yelling. That’s all I can promise, Betsy. #NotAYeller
Well just think, you’ve made some poor folk really happy. I bet their rockin’ on those lovely white rocking chairs as we speak!…or type…whatever. I hope you get them back, but I suspect those babies were grabbed by the employees, never mind the folk who should have gotten dibs on them.
Ahem…Dramatic conclusion is on my Facebook page.
Sus,
Thanks for the donation of new chairs for our rear patio; had planned to sand and repaint the old ones before seeing yours all set for donation, along with the other items. The hurricane candle holders look nice as well; may ultimately decide to put them on the porch at 22 Liz Lane. That decision to be made later. I dropped the clothing and books off at a resale shop. Seemed like the right thing to do. You’ll be pleased to know that Macy didn’t bark once in the few minutes it took to load everything in the pick-up truck I borrowed from a friend for my morning of garbage/donation-picking!
The funny thing about this comment, Dad, is that on some level, I sort of believed it…entirely plausible.
What a pain! I hate it when that kind of thing happens!
Like I said, Missy…at this point, I’m just thankful that The Cherubs were not out on the porch at pickup time.
Oh nooooooooo lol
I am headed to your FB page to find out.
Ugh, that is exactly why I just drive donationst to the place myself. I have to hope that the guys picking up the stuff wondered if they should take the rockers and maybe had a debate about it before sweeping them right into the truck.
And too bad I’m not on facebook to find out what happeend!!