I open the door to an army of 17 little green punk potato sacks staring at me.
Damn. Random Family Member was too late. The driver probably came by, saw nothing and left. So, I write this sloppy, wet, grovelling apology to the Charity Lady and sheepishly ask to reschedule another pickup the next time the truck was in our neighbourhood. RFM didn't get all the bags of clothes in the house like we told him to either, so that's just as well.
Then as I go to clear out my Junk Mail, there's her sloppy, wet, grovelling apology TO ME saying her driver called in sick this morning. The whole route is going to be done tomorrow morning instead. =D =D =D