So I order a few things.Â An Amazon book here, a box of vitamins there.Â No biggie, right?Â However, my husband has accused meâ€”incorrectly I might addâ€”of having the hots for our UPS driver. Â He claims that is why I order as many UPS-able items as possible.
I mean, sure, the guy is cute, and he certainly can carry a box with the best of them, but I am a happily married woman.Â That, um,Â incident was merely a bit of bad timing.Â What incident?Â Well, let me give you my versionâ€¦
I had been working in our yard all day and felt particularly grimy.Â Before starting to make dinner I declared I was going to take a bath, which I did.Â Feeling ready to have a relaxed evening I threw on a white tank top and flannel PJ bottoms.Â There is something about a thin white tank top clinging to damp skin that my husband finds interesting.Â THAT is why I wore it.
Anyway, I come prancing down the stairs and start heading for the kitchen.Â My husband was doing something or other and couldnâ€™t go to the door when the doorbell rang.Â I spun on my heel, and without much thought, threw open the door.Â It was my UPS guy.Â Er, our UPS guy.Â He looked at me for a second, and then looked uncomfortable as he gingerly handed me the box.Â Unfortunately it was a heavy sucker (40 pounds) and I nearly dropped it.Â That of course caused my tank top to go really tight across my rib-melons.Â He and I awkwardly exchanged smiles and thank youâ€™s and parted ways.
My husbandâ€”Mr. too busy to go to the doorâ€”gave me the â€œUh, what a coincidence that you were dressed like that when the UPS guy arrivesâ€ look.Â I shrugged and plastered an innocent glow on my face.Â Because I was. Innocent. Totally.
Today the UPS guy dropped off another package.Â This time I had on orange rubber boots, grass stained capriâ€™s, a normal tee-shirt with a bra underneath, and carried the fragrance of unleaded gas ala the lawnmower.Â We smiled at each other and talked about the chance of rain.Â Wink wink.Â It was the best part of my day.