ok, let’s back up.
At the time, it was the latest bundle my mail lady had resigned herself to walking up our driveway to deliver. I happen to know she enjoys meeting my Bill at the front door, for there is great and unspoken commiseration between them as he sighs and signs for the package of the hour. I may have to look into ways to alleviate dissention amongst those who ferry deliveries down the home stretch to my arms.
But I digress. Back to the story: do you remember how, after a winsome tirade of mine about the amusing accumulation of stamps observed on said package, I asked you to guess what was inside?
Yes, yes. Then THIS happened:
Not to wreck the surprise for everyone else, but our Andy was absolutely spot on. In fact, he was correct in a way that was so precise that now I have to know how he did it. I had left enough clues to lead an enterprising soul to “yarn”…. but mule-spun merino wool? How could he possibly have known that?
Out with it, Andy. I won’t rest until I know the secret. And in the meantime, I will resort to bizarre and inaccessible inside jokes to keep my mind off the mystery.
You are, after all, the decided winner of my guessing game, and I’m sure I’m capable of coming up with a fitting reward for such high-powered accuracy. Presuming, of course, your methods were honorable and didn’t involve bribery of either my mail lady or my fiancée, threats (which is like bribery, but cheaper), or even the briefest exercise in home invasion.