I am ready to scream.
I got up early this morning and spent the whole day within sight of the front windows. I kept the kids quiet-ish, the volume on the television low and jumped every time I heard the crunch of tires on gravel. I went out a couple of times and checked the porch just to make sure I hadn't somehow missed hearing the FedEx guy.
I finally started running out of day and called to check our tracking number and see if they had any clue what time he'd actually show up. (Friday, they told me between 8am and 8pm, but that I could call today and probably get an actual time.) My box isn't even on the truck. They don't know why my box is being held for pick up and isn't on the truck, because there's a record of my call on Friday asking to have it delivered today.
Mad doesn't begin to describe it. I might try to be more understanding if the truck had broken down, or if there was some actual reason why my books aren't here in my hands. But there's not. They show that it should have been delivered today. At least "not on the truck where it's supposed to be" isn't as bad as "lost."
I'm going to try to pick the package up in Salem tomorrow, but I'm not feeling very optimistic.
Compared to this, I can be completely patient waiting for that Bayou Shimmer and my other new laceweight to arrive!
I do have some happy stuff to share -- after the kiddos were in bed last night, I cut 200 squares for the new scrap quilt, turned the heel on my second Sorta Swirly O sock, and knit about two inches on the foot of my first Smores socks.
Since I won't be organizing our new schoolbooks tonight, maybe I can get some more done.