After staying at school today extra late, I came home to find a sticky note on the outside door buzzer with my name on it, from the UPS driver. I knew it was my books and wanted to kick myself for not being at home when he attempted a delivery. To be honest, I wanted to kick Ron’s butt too for not being home since I could not be. Not that it was anyone’s fault, we had no idea today would be the day, but excitement set in and I became irrational.
I called the number he left on the note and between his fractured English and my decimated Hungarian, we communicated. At 3:15, he returned with a box and I tipped him generously. Flying in the door, I tore into the box and sure enough there were books from my publisher.
On the top were the “Europe by Rail” books. Underneath those were more “Europe by Rail” books and digging further down did not change a thing. Ten copies of the “Europe by Rail” books were all that was in the box. Trying not to be majorly, I dashed off an e-mail to my editor, fearful that that all of my ten copies were going to be the rail book and none of my own book. Within an hour, I received a response that there would be ten copies of my own book following, but the editorial assistant has not received them yet.
This is like Christmas when you get something close to what you want, but not exactly what you want. You are happy about it, but not thrilled. At least Christmas will come again in a couple of weeks.