The Beeping Box

Good thing we live in a small town.

We got a call this morning, shortly before 7 a.m. Ron answered. It was the Creswell post office (!), saying that one of two large boxes addressed to us was "making a loud beeping noise" and "noises in boxes make us nervous." They did not want to deliver it and really wanted us to come get it. Now. Please. I said that our son had sent some boxes home from college and they agreed that it was probably an alarm or something but still. Nervous.

So I headed into Creswell, picked up the beeping box along with the silent box and headed home, glad to avoid Homeland Security and/or Jack Bauer. The boxes had the address (no name) scrawled on them, with the type of scribbly handwriting easily associated with mad bombers and anthrax villains. It all had an air about it like something out of "24"--you know, a type of bomb rigged by a Nefarious Bad Guy who still manages to allow time for the Flawed but Essentially Good Guys to disarm said bomb. I shudder to think of what the Eugene post office people would have done with such a beeping box.

On the positive side, we now have a large box for the chicks, who are a little cramped in their current cardboard abode.

There's nothing quite like country life.