Murphy in the Mail?

The story opens with a package my hubby had been anxiously awaiting. It was supposed to come yesterday or today.

Today, he opened our cluster mailbox to discover the exalted key -- the KEY! -- to the parcel box. Huzzah! Today was the day! The package had arrived!

But it was not to be.

He opened the parcel box with great joy, only to find someone else's package. On examining the parcel boxes, he found that there was another key missing and quickly deduced that our mail carrier must have mixed up the keys.

He went to the address to make the package exchange, but no luck: no one was home. Oh well. He was home early. He could be patient. A little. (If you know my hubby, you know his patience doesn't extend far, and he'll be the first to tell you so.)

He went back a little while later. He found the boyfriend of the package owner, who informed him that the homeowner works until 9; he should come back around 9:30pm.

Fine.

He went back at 9:40, and one of her children told him that she was in the shower. Once again, DENIED. Once again, hubby came home with head hung low.

At 10pm, he left the house for the fourth time to retrieve the key -- the EXALTED KEY! This time, he was victorious. Huzzah!

But I'm afraid Murphy works for the U.S. Postal Service. Poor hubby came home empty handed yet again. They key would not turn in the lock. He fetched WD-40 to try to coax the lock. I went with him. We whispered sweet nothings to it, but it did not yield to our overtures.

Defeated, we came back home, and I composed a love note to our mail carrier:

Sigh. Someday our package will come...