A long time ago in a suburb not so far away from where I live now, I had a weird secret admirer leave me a mystery: and that’s when Russell Crowe showed up in my grandparents’ mailbox.
It’s now been nearly 20 years and I still don’t know who did it.
Last week I got home from my new in-the-office-more job (this transition is hard enough I’m not writing about it) to an Amazon envelope on my front step. I order from Amazon a lot, so I didn’t think it especially odd to forget I had a package coming. Also, occasionally a couple people have things shipped to my house instead of their own (when you work from home full time, it’s safer to ship here).
But no, the package was addressed to me at my full name, with no return address, no packing slip, and no indicator of the sender at all.
It’s a winter hat. A toasty warm knit winter hat that I like but probably wouldn’t have ordered for myself. NO IDEA who it came from: I mean, who uses my full name with middle initial?
I checked my own account just in case I drunk shopped or something…nope. I asked family and friends, stuck the question on Facebook, asked family and friends AGAIN.
So I apparently have either the same or a new secret admirer terribly concerned about my frigid brainpan. The weather in Minnesota on my phone app says “Feels like -30”, which should actually read “feels like you pissed of Mother Nature so badly she’s slapping your face with a thousand ice needles every time you go outside to let the dog dance in the snow instead of peeing like he’s supposed to.”
My secret admirer wants to prevent my ears from icing over and breaking off, so I’ve got that going for me.