Attempted Delivery

I was sitting in my astronomy class, Exploring the Cosmos, twelve minutes early, and was tapping at and scrolling through my phone to check the transit status of 250mg of miprocin I ordered from Canada. Upon entering the shipment’s tracking number, the resulting web page notified me that there was an attempted delivery at 10:11 that morning, but I wasn’t there to receive the package, so a note was left in my mailbox indicating the current whereabouts of my order so that I could pick it up. I slid my phone in my pocket, stood up from my seat, grabbed my backpack, and speed-walked to my apartment in anxious suspense to find out where my miprocin is. While walking home, I couldn’t help but dwell on the agitating fact that I could have been home at the time of attempted delivery, but instead had the brilliant urge to walk to my first class early.

It took a frustrating minute or two of fumbling through the deck of envelopes in my mailbox, nearly all of which belong to my shitty lowlife housemate and his girlfriend, until I finally found the small orange slip. The address was a post office only a five-minute bike ride away, so I made my way there, but was unable to pick up the package because I had used a fake last name to place my order, and the woman at the post office needed to see an ID with a matching name, which I did not possess. To my relief, she told me that the package will be redelivered tomorrow.

I biked back to campus and made it to Exploring the Cosmos thirty-five minutes late. As I took a seat in the back of the lecture hall, I heard the tail-end of my professor’s lecture on neutrinos, the whole of which I was disappointed to have missed. The student sitting to my left was playing Pokémon on some newfangled, high-definition, handheld Nintendo device I couldn’t recognize. Had the neutrino lecture not been interesting?

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