When I got home tonight there was an envelope - a bank statement - stuck between the front door and the door frame.
'Huh' I thought. 'Must have been delivered to the neighbour's house by mistake.'
So I stumbled in the door with purse and bags, scarf and hat, and bank statement in hand, and promptly dropped it all in the hallway.
And then I heard the incessant beeping.
The answering machine, indicating that there is a new message.
'Must be Hubby' I thought. 'Or Mom. No one else calls me. I'm a loser.'
I pulled off my boots and huffed and puffed into the kitchen and listened to the message.
"Hello there. Just in case you don't get my note in the door, which I'm sure you will, the gas guy is coming between 8pm and 12 midnight to restore our services because it's f*ing cold. Don't freeze, k? I love you. I brought you up a heater. K? Patch will keep you warm. Bye."
'Ah, how cute. And, yeah, it is effing cold. What the hell?'
So I went into the dining room and looked at the thermostat.
'Thirteen degrees? Thirteen? Effing gas idiots.'
You see, we've been having gas problems. Not digestive. Natural. Our gas metre has been leaking for months. We always smell it outside. And we always call the gas company, and they always come "fix" it.
And now I don't have heat.
Then it occurred to me.
'A note... what note? ...Oh, the envelope.'
Sure enough, a note similar in type and tone to Hubby's phone message was written on the back of the TD Canada Trust bank envelope. "Don't freeze!"
And all I can think is: 'Why would he write a note on the back of a bank envelope? With the bank statement still inside? And then stick it in the front door for the entire world (including, potentially, the gas guy) to find? That sounds like a GREAT idea. Isn't he worried about identity theft?'
Evidently he is not.