I had no choice.
I still needed to pick up the prescription for the pre-colonoscopy cleanse.
Yeah, I was pretty excited about that too.
I also needed to stock up on clear liquids (since normally I just drink water) and a few other necessities for the 2 days of no solid foods.
So, I threw on some clothes and walked out the door, thinking to myself “At least this will be an opportunity to start off the random acts.”
After all, I would be in a grocery store full of people. There would have to be someone there I could be nice to for no other reason than to be nice.
Right?
As I was looking for parking, someone ran out in front of my car (in an icy parking lot). My first thought was “Does it count as a random act of kindness that I didn’t hit them?”
I knew I was in trouble.
I am a cranky sick person.
I tried though. I went through the store picking up my various necessities, and I flashed a few smiles at random people along the way.
Of course, I was pale and sickly looking, so I’m pretty sure I just scared people.
They scattered away from me in the store, not wanting the plague I was surely carrying.
And tossing a few smiles about didn’t feel like enough.
Still… I couldn’t think of anything else either.
It wasn’t until I was walking out to my car that I realized that the little old lady struggling with the self check-out behind me in line probably could have used some help.
Help I probably could have given, had I thought to do so before I was already half way out the door.
I dubbed myself a random acts failure, and started to re-think this whole idea.
Because clearly I am socially inept.
But then I got home. Where I discovered a giant box on my doorstep.
Initially, I thought for sure this box was from my grandmother. Every year, a similar box arrives. Packed tight with presents from the woman in this world who loves me the most.
I just automatically assumed this was from her.
Until I went to open it, and realized it wasn’t even addressed to me.
It was addressed to the people who used to live in my house.
The people I bought this place from in May of 2009.
The people who moved to Arizona.
I think.
I honestly have no way of tracking these people down. No way of figuring out where they live, or how to get this package to them. They hadn't even purchased their new home yet when they left here.
And really, they’ve lived somewhere else for over a year and a half. I haven’t gotten any mail for them at all since that very first month after they moved. I didn’t even get any Christmas cards for them last year.
They did a pretty good job of switching their addresses over.
So whoever sent this to them, clearly didn’t keep up with their whereabouts very well.
Thus, a debate erupted over at the community.
To open, or not to open?
That is the question.
Of course, then I remembered my good deeds failure for the day. And I started to feel guilty.
The box is now safely in my car. At some point today (after my crown probably), I will brave the post office (the post office during the holidays – so this really is a good deed!) and return the package to sender.
Then I’ll come home and bust open the big package that actually was for me.
Because yeah. That’s not scary at all.
