Lazy...

Cat and hooman!

I got a card through the door to say there was a parcel waiting at the sorting office at Sighthill. It could only be my new mug and given the disproportionate excitement of having something with my actual name spelt correctly on it, I threw on my hoodie and flip flops and hot footed it across town to collect it. The sorting office shut at 12.30pm so I had approximately 50 minutes. Doable.

I raced drove very sensibly to Sighthill only to be told that the parcel was waiting at my local Post Office at Lochend. [Insert rolling eyes here.] It clearly would have been helpful if the driver had bothered to write that on the card. Twat

So at 11.32am I horsed drove very sensibly back across town to the local Post Office which is about quarter of a mile from my flat to collect my mug.

Mug you say...