gifted

Day after day, I made the trek halfway down the street to my mailbox. Trusting naively in the efficiency of Canada Post. Believing that their delivery estimate was a worst-case scenario. Surely it wouldn't take that long. I could drive to Toronto and back at least eight times within that time frame. If I didn't need sleep.

And then one day . . . there it was.

Quickly shutting the mailbox door, leaving the bills for another day, I dashed back to my house. Parcel in hand. And eagerly began to tear it open with my bare hands. It wasn't long before I was faced with a hard truth. Bare hands don't work well on multiple layers of packing tape.

Returning from the kitchen with sturdy scissors, I continued the task. I successfully removed the outer layer of packaging. Only to reveal . . . more packaging. And it warmed my heart to know that my parcel was so safe and secure and well-protected on its long arduous journey. But now the protective coating had to go.

Finally, a glimmer of hope. After cutting and tearing and cutting and tugging and cutting, the package began to reveal its contents.

And there at last it stood before me. Shiny and metallic and colourful and much taller than I had imagined.

Perhaps at this point, I should explain.

Months ago, in the dead of winter, I began rambling about Halloween-themed beer and my love affair with the imagery that frequently graces the bottles. I came to the conclusion that it wasn't actually the beer itself that appealed to me, but rather, the labels. I felt I'd be perfectly happy to have someone keep the contents and simply send me the container.

And someone did.

Fellow blogger, Ghoul Friday, very kindly packed up and sent me an extra container she had in her possession. And packed it very well, I might add.

And that wasn't all. As an extra surprise gift, I also received this nifty Silver Snail Comics bag. Thanks GF! I love that store. How did you know?