A day in the life... December 28 2015

It is not easy being a book dealer.

Or maybe it is easy being one it is just not easy being me.

 

Take yesterday for example.

On an extremely hot Johannesburg day I was leaving our warehouse where we were packing to send out the last of our Christmas shipments to our very happy customers.

I needed to get  to our Bedfordview shop. Go to the bank and a dozen other places before a 2:30 pm meeting.

All was under control. I was packing boxes of books in my car. I spend a lot of my time either packing boxes or unpacking them.

 

It was 33 degrees outside.

It was hot and dry.

 

A car pulled up...A head peered out of the window.

'Do you buy books ? ' he said.

'No ' I should have said.

'I just feel comforted and far more secure surrounded by boxes of used books! '

But it is the season to be cheery and five minutes later I was standing in the road peering into his boot full of books.

I selected the ones I wanted.

We haggled a little .

And he drove off.

 

Let's back track a few minutes.

I was preparing to LEAVE.

I had keys and phone in my hand.

He left.

I still had the keys

But the phone?

 

No that was still in his boot.

 

No problem .

I will track the phone.

I borrowed a colleagues's phone and call my husband to see where the young man has gone.

He is able to track my phone.

Grocery shopping is never the same anymore. He catches me AFTER I leave the checkout and says...ooh I see you are at the supermarket please pick up a few eggs, milk etc.

And back I go again to stand in line…

I am so obliging.

 

Anyone who has tried calling my home when I am not there and my husband is sitting NEXT to the phone will know that he never answers the phone.

I thought he wold answer his mobile.

I now know he does not answer any phone ( except when our very strange neighbour calls ... but that is a story for another day)

 

No problem.

It is the season to be cheery.

I knew where the man works.

He told me!

A Jewish radio station.

I looked up their number and tried to find out his mobile number from a very suspicious gentleman.

I guess with my northern suburbs twang I sounded like a would be terrorist.

I may have been on my way to terrorize the radio station and where would we be without their news and views?

This man was worried.

 

Mind you if it was not the season to be cheery he should have been.

To cut a long story ( ok an even longer story ) short I did recover my phone.

The young man emailed me his banking details. I had to pay for the books after all.

And I managed to find him.

The husband who did not answer the phone reminded me to be mindful.

He and Jon Kabt-Zinn were not popular at that stage.

My colleagues laughed and said remember when your phone was buried in the bottom box of books at a warehouse.

When you balance your phone on the top box of a teetering tower of books it makes sense that when the pile falls over the top box is now the one at the bottom.

The phone was in there.

Buried in books.

I should have left it there.

But then the radio station would have had a peaceful afternoon.

I would be doing mindfulness meditiation and my children would not have to have an alarm once a week that says “ call mom”

 

.