Day’s Verse:
Does not even nature itself teach you that if a man has long hair, it is a dishonor to him, but if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her? For her hair is given to her for a covering.
1 Corinthians 11:14-15

Today Benji woke up half an hour early, was grumpy all morning, and only slept for an hour during his first, almost 100%-reliably-two-hour-long nap. The rest of the day has gone along those lines, including what may have been a high or low point, depending on your perspective.

During Benji’s woefully abbreviated nap, I was taking a bath with my ears underwater so I didn’t hear any fussing when, despite my attempts at muffling my ears, I heard an incredibly loud thumping. Is that someone at the door? I wondered, Or could this really be Benji thumping in his crib? I sat up and listened.

Yep, somebody had begun persistently banging on our front door, obeying my sticky-noted injunction not to ring the door bell but somehow making knocking even louder than the bell would have been. Boy they sure did knock persistently. What salesperson is that desperate to sell me new siding?

I waited. I’m in a bath! What am I going to do?

More pounding.

Doggone it. Fine. I’ll go see who it is, but no way am I actually answering the door. Who would I be willing to answer the door for at this point? But I should check. So I get out of the bath, wrap myself in a (very large, all-concealing) towel, stomp down the hall, and look down the stairs to the windows by the front door.

I see a FedEx delivery guy.

Double doggone it. I’d completely forgotten that I agreed to let Dad have his new subwoofer delivered here, since I’m home during the day and can take deliveries that require signatures.

What would you have done at this point? Remember, I’m standing at the top of the stairs, hair dripping, wrapped only in a bath sheet.

The delivery guy sees me. We look at each other. He motions to his sign-it scanner gizmo, indicating that to leave the package he needs my John Hancock. Yes, yes, yes, I know, but when I said I’d take the subwoofer I didn’t mean during my first bath in three weeks!

I stomp down the stairs, keeping the towel firmly in place, dripping all the way, and open the door. We have a surprisingly normal exchange in which the FedEx guy apologizes but insists on getting my signature, which I provide, confirms my last name, and then hustles away to his truck. I think he was trying to pretend I had clothes on. I close the door and drip, waiting. He comes back; I open the door, receive the 50-lb subwoofer (“It’s a little heavy,” he says while lightly traipsing up our front steps) into our entryway, and close the door again. He drives away.

I go back to my bath. The water’s cold, I’m feeling rather flustered, but by heaven I’m going to finish my bath! And I do. And the FedEx guy has a crazy story to tell tonight, although for all I know this happens all the time and it’s practically boring. But boy was I glad I had a really, really big towel.

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