What happens to me when there is no plan B?...
This is too funny for words. But I'm gonna use words to show you what I mean about...let it happen the way it's supposed to. First, the delivery man left my box (that contained my 'needs to be put together' microwave cart) at the FRONT door. I tracked that eagerly awaited package like it was a shipment of gold. And for clarification, my address clearly states...1st floor REAR. The handwritten note that is on my front door for all to see says, "ALL deliveries to be made in Rear...Thanks". Grrrrr. The reason? I'm a 77 yr. young, man that doesn't like stairs so has NEVER gotten in the habit of using the front door. The advantage of the back door? I live on a hill and the enclosed back porch only has 1 step. And to make matters worse, there wasn't even a knock on the door to let me know that it was there! Double Grrrrr. lol It's a good thing that I'm computer literate (kinda) and am pretty diligent about track