Dreaming of islands...

I had a bridal shower last weekend, hosted by my uber-talented sis-in-law. It was a really great shower, got some really nice gifts and some scrumptious "not-on-my-wedding-diet" food, which I ate anyway. The highlight for me though was the gift from my brother, sister-in-law, and her parents, a kitchen island. I was so excited!!! We have this cute little house, with a cute little kitchen, with NO cabinet space. I have these brand new, beautiful pans which have been residing on my lovely kitchen floor. Not exactly ideal. Jonathan and I new right from the start that we would need to invest in an island, but would have to wait a while as (here comes the shocker), they're not free! Weird I know. The island had been ordered and shipped, but had not arrived yet, so Candis made a miniature island out of cardboard from the picture of my island online. She's cool like that. (That song is in your head now isn't it??? "I'm cool like that, I'm cool like that..."). So there I was, opening a small, lightweight present in front of all of the church ladies, I pull out a 4 inch cardboard box and burst into tears, blubbering about "My island!!! My island!!!" I think they all thought I had officially lost my mind. Most of them left still not understanding why I was crying about that crap cardboard gift.

The beautiful, awesome island was expected to arrive Monday... wa hoo!! I got home from work in the early afternoon to wait for it's blessed arrival. I ended up taking a nap. So there I am, enjoying a nice nap, dreaming of my island, and... the doorbell rings!!!! I jump up, grab my glasses, and run to fling the door open. I'm so excited, overjoyed, can't wait to see it. The man standing at my door proceeds to assure me that he's not here to sell me anything. You mean you don't have my island?!?! I almost punched him. He then began to tell me some lengthy, memorized shpeel (yes, it was a shpeel) about how he came from a high crime area and wants to be better than that... blah, blah, blah.... like I care?? Then came the questions, most of which I refused to answer. And THEN...he tried to sell me magazines. This time, he DID get punched. You lying piece of crap!!! You promised not to sell me anything AND you don't have my island?!?!!? Why are you here??

You may think that this is where the story ends, but oh no my friends, there's more. Monday came and went... no island. I asked Candis to check the tracking for me to see where it was. Shipment Damaged. That's all it said. They managed to get it all the way to Colorado and then what? Throw it off the truck for sport? Jerks. They have since "rushed" a new, in tact island to me, but I've yet to see it. Next time I'll be more careful before I open the door. Maybe I'll crack a window and ask to see the island first. Jonathan says I should make better use of the peephole... he might have a point.

Friends quote for this saga:
Chandler: The other cheesecake came. They delivered it to the wrong address again.
Rachel: So, just bring it back downstairs. What's the problem?
Chandler: I can't seem to say good-bye.