Boxes on the borders
Reporting the progress of my parcel (note the italics; ownership is an acquired virtue) might not be as exciting as reporting on interplanetary travel, but there’s not much of that going on these days. My parcel is the only show in town. Today, we made the big jump.
The parcel made it from Miami to the northern border of the US, today. At that moment, the transfer to Canadian Customs was handled without incident. After an inspection that lasted for less than six hours, the parcel was released to the skilled shippers at Canada Post and I breathed a sigh of relief. After all, customs doesn’t have a lot of experience with things that are unassembled. Not disassembled; try never put into a working relationship. How many among you have ever received your electronic device in baggies containing hundreds of pieces? I though so.
My overactive imagination gave me a movie fit for YouTube; one set of uniformed officials handing the box off to their counterparts, with salutes and brandishing of short swords. Reality check; the box was probably dumped on a conveyor belt at one end of the warehouse in St-Laurent and then robotically transferred to a truck. No big deal (for them).
We were out and about this evening, and made one of those rush stops at the grocery store to purchase essentials; chocolate cheese cake, chicken for the BBQ, cookies. I forgot to bring my freight bags inside. When I repacked my plastic basket to leave the checkout, the clerk became agitated. “Those baskets can’t leave the store”. It’s a question of volume – the big metal carts can come and go, but little baskets are too convenient. I assured her of my honesty, and she relented (sort of ). Out to the car, back with her basket, head for home.
