My new legging shipment came in last week – and its arrival on my doorstep was met with a highly dangerous and volatile cocktail of anticipation, anxiety and excitement because:
1. I happen to LOVE getting presents.
2. Each shipment travels to me SIMPLY on faith.
3. I have an overactive imagination.
I try in vain to envision their actual location in transit, their surroundings and whether or not they are being well taken care of by their carrier or crushed under the sheer weight of their travel companions. I catch myself picturing me caught this strange travel predicament instead – and all I can come up with is a sense of being trapped…in a very small plane…overwhelmed by my 500 pound neighbor spilling over his seat and into mine…an errant child in front of me having reclined her seat all the way back…a never-ending series of mechanical and weather delays…THIS is when my panic starts to set in and my thoughts run even more out of control…
So, when I finally do get the chance to catch my breath with the receipt of an illegible notification of their arrival (and pull myself away from my overactive imagination), in what state do they appear to be in? For I could easily open the box only to find my carefully crafted leggings damaged, not in the correct quantities or worse, not up to my standards in terms of quality of construction. Since I am relying on others to perform these rather essential tasks and as someone who possesses a (slight) need for control in every situation, letting go and simply allowing them to float to my doorstep is quite a stressful event to say the least.
Thankfully as I tear the cardboard box to shreds (I did mention that I love to open presents, right?), I am able to breathe a huge sigh of relief for they have arrived in excellent condition and as expected. I have been busy most evenings this past week sorting, inspecting, folding and tagging. The assembly line that I have created on my kitchen island is rigid and efficient in its process – one that commences and ends with a smile and a celebratory sip of wine.
And with every one of my leggings from this shipment passing inspection, I now find myself looking for a local tailor. For once in my life, my pants are far too long!