Last of the deliveries whine

Given all the troubles I've had getting things delivered over the past 8 months (good lord, has it really been so long?), the phone call I received this morning concerning the very last items I'm ever going to have delivered seemed only fitting. I'd been expecting a call, to tell me exactly when the new tiles would be delivered and the old tiles picked up for return, so I was glad to actually receive it - phone calls that mysteriously go awry are another item on my increasingly lengthy list of personal bugbears. Of course, the answer to my question of when the delivery would take place wasn't quite what I'd expected. The answer I was given was "now", with "now" being a little sooner than I'd anticipated. From what I gleaned from my conversation with the delivery man who was wondering why no-one was answering the door to my flat, it seemed a phone call somewhere along the line had mysteriously gone awry. Imagine. Negotiations with the delivery man commenced as I explained that it would take me 67 minutes for me to actually reach the flat. Immune to his complaints that I was going to throw his schedule off by another 67 minutes, I stood my ground until he agreed to wait for my arrival. Yay me. Sixty seven minutes later I duly turned up (punctuality is important kids), and mollified the delivery man somewhat by helping shift what seemed to be awful lot of rather heavy (but pretty. Did I mention they're pretty?) tiles.

The tiler even turned up on time again. Plasterer's still awol, but progress is progress...