Deliver Us....

I've learned to adore yet another thing about New York..... the phrase, "Do you want that delivered?"

Do you think I say "Yes."?

Is water wet? Is the Pope Catholic? When an apartment says 'pet friendly', does that just mean they've named the roaches?

It first occurred when I went down to the Container Store, where I tend to bring a lunch I stay there so long, and purchased a towering shopping basketful of goodies to organise the loft. My glee at the items it contained was offset only by my wondering how I'd fit everything into a cab...even I knew I'd never make it on the train. As I stood in line, a friendly person came over and said, "Will you want that delivered?"

I was speechless....a rare occasion for me. It was if I'd never heard English before. Delivered? DELIVERED??

I attempted to appear as if I heard that word on a regular basis. "Why, yes... that would be fine."

I was promptly whisked out of the everyone-is-the-same line into the deliver-me-from-schlepping-this-myself line.

It was heaven. A special line, for little ole' me? They wrapped and rang up and chatted with me, taking my cash and getting the address, assuring me my goods would be there when I wanted them there. Sure, there was a minuscule charge, however, compared to dragging bags and parcels up and down stairs.. even the tip would be worth it.

I turned down the offer of a cab... I could shop for me now... my hands were free.

I wandered into another store, gave the phrase, "Deliver that, please." in a languid voice, then raced for my peon train to beat my la dee da delivery men. Tip them, unpack, and I was set.

Now, I have almost everything delivered...pet food...no more worrying about dragging 40lbs dry food down Broadway, even if now I do have the arms to do it easily....hungry? pick up one of the 4,762 menus cluttering the junk drawer, and have it delivered! I've not cooked since I arrived. I'm almost ashamed.

Almost.

I tip with a smile, I love the fact some other person used to drag themselves up those five flights of stairs...they got a bigger tip than the new place with it's beloved elevator... in fact, there were nights I almost called from the third floor landing to have them carry me up with the food, willing to tip them a huge amount to drag my tired ass up to the flat.

Oh, yes, delivery is wonderful, delightful, marvelous.... what a way to live. If nothing else keeps me from going back to the land of Utes, it will be the loss of delivery....and the fact the one place that does deliver has my son as an employee, and I'll have to tip him extra.