Cold Delivery

Posted on January 7, 2005 in Household Possessions

After weeks of waiting, our microwave was delivered at a little before eleven. To ensure that I was ready, I had laid the cell phone next to my head in bed. A minute or two before they rang the door, I woke serendipitously. The doorbell rang. A thin Latino stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard. As the hard rain hit the deck, a flurry of mist splashed upwards and wafted into the door.

“Your people were supposed to call me,” I said, standing there in my bathrobe. The wind off the mountain blew up the hem, cooling my balls.

“The system is all messed up today,” he said. “You wanted the microwave, right?”

I had them put it next to the door. It’s here now. I need to leave a message so the bald Russian with the red moustache can come to install it.