Eye of The Beholder

It’s been a frustrating few days as three different deliveries went awry.

I’d been awaiting a Creative Memory product necessary to complete pages in the scrapbook. USPS delivery was scheduled for Thursday night, before 9:00 p.m. Around 8:00, I checked tracking and found the item supposedly had been left at my door 6:15. I did not hear anyone come up the stairs that evening, had not heard a knock and, upon checking outside the door, found no package. Obviously, the driver delivered to the wrong door and, inasmuch as not everyone around here is honest, I worried and contacted USPS because I felt driver error should be corrected by driver. That he or she should retrace where the delivery was made and retrieve the package.

USPS felt otherwise, said tracking indicated the package was delivered to the correct location. I countered with the fact that I am on the receiving end and the package was absolutely not delivered to the correct location. Whereupon, USPS suggested I myself check the neighborhood. 

Not wanting to further frustrate myself, I decided screw it and prepared myself for locating a different supplier for the product, a supplier that did not use USPS for delivery. But then, lo and behold, a day or so later a neighbor from another building walked the package over.

So much for USPS insisting it was delivered to the correct location. It was delivered to the right complex, but wrong building in the complex. 

Thank goodness that neighbor, a woman I’ve never seen before, was honest. It doesn’t appear the neighbor who received the last delivery, which was two separate packets of photos I had printed, will follow suit.

Though I also received email notice the photos had been delivered, I’m assuming the mail carrier put them in the wrong mail slot ─ no way to trace that. So, I can and have already processed a second request for those prints, hope they make it to my mail slot this next time, but the idea of someone with those photos ─ most likely a guy, because I can’t imagine a woman has all these photos (of mostly me in different masks, me participating in different 5Ks, the medals, the swag, photos of me in those face shields I recently acquired, photos of me with family) is really creepy.

At any rate, customer service sucking so hard last few days has been frustrating, but I soldiered through without heading to See’s Candy Store to medicate myself.

Unable to continue with the Creative Memory project, until the photos arrive, I pulled out my next needlepoint project and put together an embroidery stand to work with, because holding and manipulating stiff aida cloth in my left hand, needle in right hand, was beginning to stress my wrists. I’m not sure how long it was supposed to take to put the stand together ─ maybe an hour but, for me, it turned into an all-day 9:00 to 5:00 Ikea like project, but I got ‘er done.

It’s getting pretty crowded here in my little unit, what with both scrapbooking supplies all over the place and a needlepoint project going at the same time. If I ever have to relocate, it would behoove me to get a two-bedroom unit, so I can turn one into a room for crafts.

I titled this post “Eye of the Beholder” because the purple and green face shield was seen entirely different by my millennial Trainer. Kathy saw the shield as me looking like a fly. I likened it to me looking like a bug. Trainer saw Power Ranger and asked me to wear it for his Instagram posting of Friday’s session.

I guess our beholding eye is dependent upon what era we were born into.

Granddaughter tells me all Power Rangers are named after colors, and dubbed me the Bling Ranger.

You can’t really tell what I’m saying through the mask in the video below, but it was “Power Ranger Activate!”