Delivery

It's like christmas.

I come home from work and there at my feet is a small package. 

I swiftly attempt to swipe it up as I pass, but miss and inevitably have to stop and turn back to pick it up, slightly glad no one is around to see. 

I take it to the lounge and have a seat. 

The dog jumps in my face and I can't quite see what the hell I'm doing but I manage to tear open the packaging to reveal, at long last, the humbucker, volume knobs, pots and strap buttons I ordered, god knows when, ago! 

Excited, I run to grab the guitar. 

The pots don't fit the hole!

It's fine, I'll just go grab a drill bit and widen the hole. No fuss!

I run back upstairs and hunt for a good half an hour but cannot find one big enough! 

Back downstairs my eyes dart to the chair I left the potentiometers on. 

They've gone! 

The dog!!

She's lucky I love that little hair ball!

I dive, hit the floor and slide under the coffee table. 

I manage to grab it as she is now more shocked by the site of a grown man flying through the air than to bother chewing things. 

It's safe.

But to what end?

I still can't fit it without the drill bit, so I'm back to square one. 

I suppose I'll have to spend tomorrow building the shed instead.