So, being late for work has friendship benefits.
If had gotten in for work at 8am like I had initially intended (and promised my boss) for today then I wouldn’t have still been in bed an a quarter to nine when the doorbell buzzed.
Had I not still been in bed then I wouldn’t have not heard the doorbell due to my being in sleepsville until it rang a second time, thereby waking me up enough for me to swear, roll over and go back to sleep.
By doorbell ring number three (or maybe 70). I was awake, and grumpy. I got out of bed, strode across my room, into the hallway and said “hello” in my most grumpy manner, no one spoke back through the magical intercom wotsit thingy. Obviously this meant it was probably Jack The Ripper, he famously buzzed on Victorian doors and then didn’t say anything through the intercom. They’d he’d sneak in and murder.
This hadn’t occurred to me, so I pressed the unlock button and stumbled back to bed.
Seconds, or minutes later there was a knock on my door. had the Jack The Ripper thought occurred to me beforehand then I may have thought that I was about to be murdered by a celebrity. But it hadn’t so I didn’t.
I moodily got back out of bed wearing only my pants and went to the door. I could see a possibly cloaked figure, though in all likelihood it was a coated figure.
Realising I was in just my pants I walked back into my room to get my dressing gown. there was more knocking, now perhaps slightly irritable. My dressing gown belt thing was missing, so as I opened the door I was still ostensibly in just my pants.
It was a courier and not a murderer/rapist. I suddenly realised that good courier etiquette meant that i really should be in more than pants. Maybe a suit.
I signed for the package, it wasn’t even for me.
I got back into bed
Was late for work.