It's not Adidas' fault, but CanadaPost can lick my ass

I've needed new kickboxing shoes for a while.  My current shoes don't offer enough flexibility, so my knees hurt.

I'm an old friggin lady.  Leave me alone. 

And to make matters worse, I have miniature feet. 

For those of you who don't know me, I'm kind of a dwarf.  Not a real "little person", but definitely undersized.  Proportionately scaled down by 25 percent.     

Anyway, finding small enough shoes that don't have those curly toes with bells on the tips is tricky. 

I finally found some cute Adidas x-trainers, but I had to order them from the website.  I got an email saying they'd be delivered to my house soon.  Yay!  New shoes!  No more Nana knees! 

About a week passed, but no sign of my shoes.  And I'd know if they'd been delivered.  I never leave the house.   

So I went to the CanadaPost website to track them.  According to those idiots, my shoes were delivered days ago and signed for by me. 

Now.  Unless my meds make me even crazier, that's a damnable lie. 

So I called the Bastards.   

Me:  "Hi.  I ordered shoes from Adidas and the tracking number says they were delivered but they never were."
Canada Post Girl:  "Hmmm.  It says they were delivered."
Me: "Well, sorry, but they weren't."
CanadaPost Girl:  "Ok, well, it was more than a week ago, so I'll have to transfer your call." [Subtext: "Why didn't you call sooner?"]

CanadaPost Guy:  "Hello?"
Me: "Hi. I ordered shoes from Adidas and the tracking number says they were delivered but they never were."
Canada Post Guy: "Hmmm.  It says they were delivered."
Me: "Well, sorry, but they weren't."
CanadaPost Guy: "Do you live on Caroline Avenue?"
Me:  "Uh, no.  I don't even know where that is."

It went on like that for a while.  He eventually said they sent the shoes to Caroline Avenue, and even worse, that he had no idea why.   

Awesome. 

He told me he'd "put a trace on them" [Subtext: "I'm a postal cop"] and said I should call back in two to five days.  If they don't find them, I'll have to call Adidas, and Adidas will have to place a claim against CanadaPost. 

Good luck Adidas.

A few days later a postal driver showed up at our front door.  For the longest time I ignored the repeated doorbell rings because I didn't want strangers knowing I sit in my housecoat all day. 

Eventually Hubby ran to the door hoping it was his new very expensive amazing guitar. 

Hubby: "My guitar?!"
Me:  "My shoes?!  Do you have my shoes?"
Postal Driver: "Uh, no... Do YOU have the shoes?"
Me:  ?

Turns out CanadaPost sent the poor fucker to my house, instead of sending him to Caroline Avenue. 

Me:  "Sorry?"
Postal Driver:  *grunt*

So now I have to wait even longer [Subtext: get your act together douchebags] and some asshole is walking around Caroline Avenue in my miniature, bright fuchsia Adidas x-trainers. 

And my Nana knees hurt. 


ADDED LATER:

This is the Canadian version of a "housecoat".  Like a robe.  Frig. 

Except my legs are not this hairy.

_