I don’t remember what I got my best friend for his birthday.
I mean, I think I know what I got him, but I can’t remember if that’s what I got him.
Back in March, I bought Bill a card and a birthday gift and got it wrapped. I asked them to add glitter, but they didn’t have glitter. It fit perfectly in a Priority Mail box someone abandoned at the post office. I sent it early, since it was going to Hawaii.
Once upon a time, when I asked Bill for his address, he gave me one for regular correspondence and another for packages. I saved it so I never had to ask him again.
When I followed the tracking and told him it had arrived, he couldn’t find it. I then verified the address and learned that he forgot to tell me it was a box at a UPS store and he no longer had it.
I called the UPS store and they told me they mistakenly accepted the package and Bill could come pick it up. Bill was told he couldn’t pick it up. I figured they’d send it back to me one day or they’d eventually let Bill have it, since they signed for it by mistake and I called the day they received it and I was told he could still come get it.
I heard nothing further from Bill about it, so I was a little surprised when I got a package notification Thursday and I got that mangled hunk of cardboard.
“It wouldn’t be proper for us to not have an adventure, even if it’s in the mail,” Bill said.
“I wonder what it has seen in three months,” I replied.
“Clearly, someone banged a hooker on it.”
I have Bill parents’ number, because, although we met in college, at times it seems like we grew up together. In a way, we did. Also, if my dad remained in the Army and moved to the Tri-Cities, Bill and I would have gone to high school together. I have these weird points in my life where there are people I still would have met if my things turned out differently. It used to freak me out, but now I just go with how Dickensian it is.
But I digress.
I plan on calling them next Thursday, driving down to Chester on whatever day is good for us and leaving it for the next time he goes home.
“Burn the edges or something before you give it to him,” I plan on saying. “That’s all it’s missing.”
Happy (belated) birthday, my Billybuns. I’m glad I didn’t follow through with trying to send a sixer of Legend.