Why our pizza guy needs hazard pay
(This is reprinted from my old blog, at MotherOfBun.)
Last Sunday evening, after jumping out of the shower, I decided to jot down some quick thoughts for an upcoming post. I was in my office doing a little nakey blogging.
Its the latest craze, ya know. (Ok. Maybe not.)
Honestly? I was too lazy to put on some clothes. (Sorry if those of you who know me have now gone momentarily blind from that mental picture. As for those who have never seen me in real life, pretend I have the body of a Playboy centerfold.)
The door to my office was open. (The office is situated upstairs next to the staircase. You can see the staircase as you walk through our front door. So from my office? I can look beyond the staircase out the front door to the porch. (The top half of the door is made of glass, hence the good visibility.)
The pizza guy was supposed to show up at 8:45 p.m. He ended up being 25 minutes early. In the 500 times we’ve had pizza delivered to our new place, the pizza guy has always been late. You know where this is going, don’t you….
So thinking I have at least 20 minutes, I’m typing away and Ding Dong…. Oh crap.
I haven’t moved that fast in a long time. Since my office has double doors, I hid behind the closed one.
Lisa, is that a sunburn on your body? Nope, that’s just the shade of intense humiliation. Yup. Its STILL there!
And I’m pretty sure the poor pizza guy saw me — as it was dark outside and the only light on in the front part of the house was my office light.
I hope Marc gave the poor man a good tip. He will need it to pay for the short term blindness.
