Who's That Knocking On My Door?

“Lightening Up With Jan”

Resident Jan Marshall is a Humorologist, award-winning author, and humor columnist for adults and aspirational books for children.

So this is what happened.

I ordered my supplies from “never to be named though sounds like schmamazon.”

Along with the essentials I needed, well not all were essential as I wanted my friend Stella to be included. That is Stella Artois my beer of choice. It was a six pack that usually will last for most of the year as I only can handle half of a bottle once or twice a month sometimes even for longer interludes. The deliverer evidently initially placed everything on my front step and then (unexpectedly to me), banged on the door to get my ID.

What?

“Yea. There is alcohol with your order.”

“Anthony”, I had asked him for his name because I wanted to refer him to my cataract surgeon. “Anthony, I live in a senior facility – the youngest resident is perhaps sixty ish the oldest maybe 105 or thereabout and I’m somewhere in that age range.

If he were still around, Willard Scott would be wishing me a special Centenarian Schmucker’s birthday greeting any time now. Siri, MY personal iPhone assistant and frequent Nemesis wakes me each AM with various inquiries. “Are you still alive? Who is your next of kin…and can I have your blue cashmere sweater, you know just in case?”

My mirror exclaims, “Granny, please don’t ever ask me whose the fairest of them all. As a matter fact to save time instead of the chore of having to Windex me because it looks like I’m all cracked and schmutzy, why don’t you cover me with a non transparent schmateau? (Translate-rag) for your sake and mine?”

I had questions.

“Anthony, tell me, is this Candid Camera or a prank video? Do you not see facial wrinkles so deep I can file documents in them?”

“Lady these are the rules when alcohol is involved . You have a complaint, call Jeff Bezos!”

After stamping and stomping and silently cursing -(I may need to wash my mouth out with some of that beer)-I finally found my old drivers license that he then scanned after removing the cobwebs and then he was on his way. So now I’m looking for a millennium dating site, because well, it is so obvious to everyone except my stupid mirror and Anthony that I am a hot chick.

And yes, I will call Bezos the guy with that silly laugh, and also ask why I pay taxes and he barely does? He should know it’s dangerous to mess with a grumpy old woman who is so ravishingly youthful that a schmamazon employee had to run away as fast as possible lest he be tempted.