Our house is all lit up! Just in time for our first package this morning, the arrival of which nearly did me in.
Cuddling nicely with Michael, snug under the blankets…then…
BUUUZZZZZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZZZZZZZ the buzzer started going off the hook and it’s REALLY loud!
A shout from outside “GUA HAO! GUA HAO!! (SIGN FOR PACKAGE! SIGN FOR PACKAGE!!)
I woke up and am wondering, foggy-eyed, if it’s our house? …
BUUUUUUUUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
“GUAAA HAO GUA HAOOOOO”
The combination of noises startled me out of bed and onto the cold wintry floor, which is confusing enough for the body when done over a period of minutes, much less in 3 seconds. I’m in my pajamas which are not entirely suitable for meeting the post man. Struggling to get my robe on and put my hair where it needs to be, I stumble out of the bedroom into the dark living room, fumble for my slippers and the light switch and run into our roommate Ginger, who is equally disoriented and looks like she forgot to put her hair where it needed to be.
“Is that our apartment?” she croaks.
“Yeah, it’s for us. Gua Hao.” I croak in reply. Two croakers.
In the meantime there’s still a loud shouting man down two flights of stairs and outside the front door, who at least stopped hitting the buzzer so much. Thank you, postman.
“Do we have to go downstairs?” she asks.
BUZZ BUZZZ
We both just stood there a moment, trying to remember what the protocol is for signing for a package. I’m not entirely sure, so I just gruffly replied “Yeah” and opened the door to start the journey downstairs.
The postman by this time is talking on his cell phone, complaining to someone that if no one answers their door, how is he supposed to deliver packages? I can hear him all the way through the door and up the stairs. Opening the downstairs door revealed a man squatting on the ground, waving the sign sheet around and talking animatedly on his cell phone. He looked up at me and without skipping a beat said “Gua hao.” Only then did he survey my appearance, and I saw a shadow of doubt cross his face. “Zhe shi ni de ma?” (is this yours?) he asked, in the same loud voice, still holding the cell phone up to his ear. I nodded, not even able to force out a word. He pointed to a box on the form and I squatted too, taking his pen to scribble a messy Emily Jefferies.
I picked up the package and went inside, closing the door on his still-squatting, still-talking self, and listened to his conversation all the way back up the stairs. Thankfully Ginger had left our door cracked, because of course I forgot to bring keys.
In the dark, I found a place for the huge package under our tiny tree and shuffled back to bed, still hazy. Crawling back under the covers, I forced out a weak “We got a package,” the only description Michael was going to get for now.
“Oh.” He said, and sighed, pulling me close.
My husband is great.
Grandma and Grandad are great.
Taiwan is great.
Christmas is great!
Happy celebrating, everyone! We love you!
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