The missing chair.

Jane ordered a new office chair last week, some spendy bit of gear from a specialist supplier in the Valley. It was supposed to come the day I flew down to Melbounre.

That’s fine. Thomas was home. He could take delivery.

It did not arrive.

And it continued to not arrive for many days after. Being a catastrophist I assumed it had been delivered and quickly stolen before Thomas could get it inside. Parcel thievery is a booming business at this time of year.

Jane, however, not being a catastrophist, chased the missing chair up with the store. They assured her it had been delivered. They emailed a photo of the very delivery slip the driver had left in the mailbox, adding a slightly threatening demand that we check the details.

She did. The most crucial detail was that the delivery slip was not in our mail box. They’d dropped the chair two suburbs over at another street sharing the name of our address.

Luckily, this was not the first time and the resident at the alternate address had secured the parcel, knowing either the courier or we would be back for it.

So, the store admits the mistake, sends the courier back, and he delivers it again.

Here it is.

On some other deck.

Not ours.