I reckon Australia Post has pulled off one of the greatest magic tricks in Australian history.
Youāll sit at home all day waiting for a parcel like some sort of emotionally neglected Labrador. You wonāt shower, you wonāt duck to the shops, youāll practically hold your bladder hostage because you know the second you leave⦠thatās when theyāll show up.
Then your phone pings.
Delivery attempted.
Attempted where, babe?
Because Iāve been home. The dog didnāt bark. The doorbell didnāt ring. The cameras didnāt pick up so much as a leaf blowing past the front gate.
Yet somehow youāve āmissedā me.
Then, to really rub salt into the wound, my parcel gets sent to a post office thatās apparently located in another postcode and only opens for seven and a half minutes every second Tuesday.
The tracking doesnāt help either.
āOnboard for delivery.ā
Brilliant!
That could mean itās five houses away, or doing laps of regional Victoria with a packet of Temu eyelashes, someoneās emotional support protein powder and a pair of Crocs.
Then comes the final kick in the guts.
āSorry we missed you.ā
No you didnāt.
You avoided me.
At this point Iām convinced those little red āSorry We Missed Youā cards are just being launched out the driverās window at 60km/h like Ninja Stars.