(Have you seen me? Please bring me home.)
I tend to be easy to get along with. I smile, say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ I agree. And, on Sunday, when American Airlines asked passengers to check their rolling bags (for free!), I did.
Except for the minute when the bag was off loaded in Dallas, I have not seen my bag since. I watched out the plane window and saw my bag and others separated from the DFW luggage. It was ticketed to Waco (ACT).
In Waco I was told that my bag would be in on the next flight. It was but I couldn’t wait around for it. I filed the paperwork, explained the unique feature of my house (it’s light blue), and waited at home for its arrival.
All evening. Nothing.
Today, unlike so many other people, I had to go to work.
The airline tried to deliver my bag at 9am- I went to work at 7:30. They couldn’t leave the bag because I COULDN’T SIGN FOR IT!
And when do I find this out? When I call the airport this evening at 8pm!
Maybe, if they get a hold of the driver, my bag could be delivered … tomorrow. I have taped a note to the door giving permission to leave the bag there.
I hope to God he does. I’m tired of this one black bra. I want my clothes. I’m out of Crestor. I need my flatiron. I’d like to place the burnable candle my friend Lane made for me on the table in my kitchen.
Until tonight’s telephone call, I have been nice. I wasn’t too mean. I’m just frustrated.