Of Rain and Martyrdom

My haunting career has been sorely tried.

I mean, the half glimpsed presence in the shady grove at twilight, the silver apparition in the damp and misty morn before the sun burns it all away or the distant figure on the windblown hillside are all very romantic.

Standing in the pouring rain in over-size gumboots with a battered and leaking umberella is NOT.

The same weather pattern that deluged us a few weeks ago, returned so I was reduced to haunting the mail box from the shelter of the front verandah. Somehow it wasn't the same.

Suddenly one morning, on the table, there IT was!

It seems Australia Post took pity on me and risked our driveway which resembled a river bed to deliver the parcel to the safety of our garage while we were out. Good job too - the sight of a very mature aged woman squeeling and throwing her arms about a young, handsome, nubile delivery man is . . . .ohhh now I've come over all hot and flushed. .

So did I rip the package apart in a mad feeding frenzy to get to the delicious contents?

Nope!

I decided that as I had tasks that had to be completed that I would keep opening the package as a reward. What! shrieked my inner self, wait some more, are you barking-mad? But I resisted. I can wait to read "Enchanted Adornments"

So who else besides me does this sort of thing? Who else keeps thing as a reward? C'mon 'fess up!

Oh, and don't ya just love the smell of burning martyr?