Second Guessing -- A Mostly-True Story

The house phone is ringing. It's usually the doorman telling me, "Your food delivery is here." Then I say, "I'm not expecting a food delivery." That's usually followed by a few seconds of silence as the doorman checks the name or apartment number on the bag of food before apologizing to me for his mistake. This time the doorman said, "A package was left for you" and he read the name, my name, that was printed on the bag, along with my apartment number. I told the doorman I'd be down to pick it up soon.

Who left me a package? I wasn't expecting anything from anyone. Amazon, Walmart and Staples don't count. They're delivered directly to the basement package room, not to the front desk doorman.

Think, Lydia. Think. Oh, I know what it must be. Lendal from England, has been boring me, uh, telling me about an Ethiopian woman who works at the Amish Market where he shops. She makes nougat which he pronounces 'nugar' and gives him large portions of the sweet treat as a gift. He sent me a picture of it and I realized it's what I and everyone else except Lendal and that Ethiopian woman calls 'nougat.' In my most recent email from Lendal, he mentioned that the Ethiopian woman gave him yet another major supply of nougat.  That's what the package downstairs must be. Now that Lendal's gym is closed, he takes a 4-mile daily walk to work off the nougat calories. He knows I never tasted it. I bet he walked here and dropped off a portion of it for me. Come to think of it, I wouldn't bet on it.

Oh I know. My friend Stephen is a photographer and makeup artist. A couple of weeks ago, I went through my makeup drawers and took out everything I either never used or used once or twice and was not going to use again. Some of it was expensive. I asked Stephen if he wanted a big bag filled with a variety of brushes, pencils, foundation, cover-up and more of my miscellaneous makeup mistakes. He couldn't come by fast enough to pick it up.  

Since I'm wearing a mask these days, and all you see are my eyes, I decided to start wearing eye liner again. I haven't bought eye liner for a long time and so I called on Stephen's expertise. When I asked him for the best liner that's easy to use, he said he'd have to think about it and get back to me. Because I gave him a ton of makeup, he must have bought me eye liner and that's what was left for me at the front desk.

My cousin has an ex-boyfriend who is retired and has a car in the city. He drives her wherever she wants to go. She knows how I love Zabar's bagels and pickled herring. Would she? No, she wouldn't drop off anything that needs to be put in the refrigerator without telling me.

Come to think of it, I'm assuming someone came into the building to drop off whatever it is. I could be wrong. It could be someone who lives in the building. I know. Carla sent a resident-posting (emails) to everyone in the building, asking for fabric and quarter-inch elastic that's appropriate for masks. She said she will be sewing and distributing them wherever needed. I had a set of percale printed sheets that was never used and is not the size for the beds I have now. Carla loved the fabric and thought it was perfect for masks.  That's what may be downstairs...a bag with a couple of masks made from my sheets.

Or it could be from an upstairs neighbor. I was invited to Roberta's apartment for the Democratic debates back in February. I didn't have to travel, unless you consider the elevator from the fifth to the fourteenth floor traveling. The other people that were invited didn't live in the building and had to depend on public transportation. I took the elevator and was the first guest to show up. While waiting for the others to arrive, I perused Roberta's book shelves. That's when I spotted "Calypso" by David Sedaris. A few days before, my friend went on and on about how funny these Sedaris short stories are. She said, "I laughed out loud and I never laugh out loud. You have to read it." When I asked her to lend it to me, she explained that her friend lent it to her and she had already given it back. I could have ordered a used copy from Amazon or Abe Books, but I didn't. I just didn't. And then, I see the book on Roberta's shelf. Of course I asked Roberta if she already read it. "Funny you should ask," she said. "It's the next book on my to-read list." "When you're finished reading it, could I borrow it?" I asked. Without hesitation, Roberta said, "Sure." And then she added, "But I first have to finish the tome I'm in the middle of now."

Maybe Roberta finished that tome and then read "Calypso" and that's what's downstairs at the front desk.

All this second, third, and fourth guessing is not good. Whatever is waiting for me at the front desk can't be all of the things I think are coming to me. We all do this, create scenarios for what may have happened or what may be the case or, in this case, what's in the package. It's time I find out.  

As I approach the front desk, I see a smart-looking mauve shopping bag sitting on the shelf in back of the doorman. As soon as the doorman sees me, he picks up the bag and waits for me to come close enough to hand it to me. It has my name and apartment number written with a Magic Marker on a small white square of paper, taped to the bag. Yaaaay! It is for me.

Once I'm back in my apartment, I tear open the stapled-closed bag, reach in and take out another bag. This one is the kind of bag Papyrus (when it was still in business) would sell for an outrageous amount of money ... considering it's just a small shopping bag. I reach into this bag and take out something wrapped in white tissue. I undo the tissue, revealing a mug that says 'West Side Rag' beneath a picture of its logo. Finally, they delivered on their promise. It was about time, I thought. That promise stemmed from West Side Rag, a daily upper west side website that had a feature called Celebrity Encounters. If they chose your encounter, they said they'd send you a West Side Rag mug. They chose my encounter with Harry Belafonte and made it the lead story on Saturday, February 15th.  

 https://www.westsiderag.com/2020/02/15/uws-encounters-harry-belafonte-a-suggestion-for-seinfeld-and-greys-anatomy

I never got the mug. My friend, artist/writer Richard Gross had his Robin Williams encounter featured on January 20th and weeks later, his mug was left with his doorman. Before I folded up the Papyrus shopping bag for regifting, I noticed a piece of paper on the bottom of the bag. It was a sweet note from Richard who felt bad that I didn't get the mug and was happy to give me his. Richard's girlfriend Ellen, left it for me when she walked by my building on her way to her dentist appointment, on the hottest day of the year.  

So with all my second guessing, I even second-guessed wrong when I actually saw the contents of the bag, thinking it was from West Side Rag instead of the incredible thoughtfulness of friends Richard and Ellen. What does that tell me? Don't second guess everything, everyone and myself. If I say I'll listen to my own advice, I'd probably be second guessing myself all over again.