This isn’t a particularly profound post, but I have been noticing how anxious I get now about courier deliveries. Before stroke, I would bound to the door to receive the expected package even in a haze of sleeplessness. Nowadays, the thought of a courier knocking at my door can sometimes leave me up all night, as if I somehow should be poised by the door in camouflage, ready to ambush the package before it is taken away and I have to spend the rest of the week breaking my brain, trying to get it back.
The combination of auditory overload and surprise can make me jump if awake and there is a loud knock at the door. This anxiety sometimes has me watching the courier van on the tracking app, making its way to my house so that I am ready for the rat-a-tat-tat … I have a tub outside my house for small packages, this sometimes gives me some relief as I hope the courier sees common sense to just leave it there. Not always, and with larger parcels, the inevitable bang on the door is heard.
To get to the door, I often have to get out of bed, this entails the finding of suitable apparel to don, to at least not be standing at the front door in my long Johns. Socks need putting on, pyjamas need to be scrounged, dressing gown and, finally, slippers. Then I need to lurch to the front door, bellowing, “I’m on my way, I’m coming, stay put.”. Inevitably, they are gone when I reach the front door, if I am lucky, they leave the parcel there or in the tub. If I am unlucky, I get a note stating that they tried delivering my parcel and I need to chase it up. Oh, the nightmare of chasing up a parcel, harder than getting to the front door. I wish I lived in a world where poor thieves didn’t rob from the poor, and parcels could happily sit on the porch, safely, for hours.
Early morning parcels are a problem for me because of my erratic waking times but even later scheduled parcels can prove an issue. Due to fatigue, I have a small window to achieve my daily activities, if a parcel is due to arrive from 1 pm to 5 pm, it means I can’t leave the house. This means that if I need to do something at that time I am stuck because leaving the house means I may miss the parcel or, either miss what I needed to do by leaving the house. Rock and hard place, I think they call it. So, I sit around and be anxious until I have the parcel and the all clear to attempt my other tasks for the day.
I should also mention that today, I received an unexpected parcel for someone else, and in my dressing gown and pyjamas chased (loose term of the word chased) the courier with package in hand, in the pouring rain, shouting “Oi! This isn’t for me.”. Fortunately, he saw my disheveled, soaked state and stopped to retrieve the misdirected package. Annoying thing with this tale is that I was just about to lie down, listen to some meditative music and try and mind blank for forty minutes before I heard the rat-a-tat-tat on my front door.
I thought this a nice December gift giving vent post. 
