It was early, too early. Why does the postman around here always have to come at some ungodly hour? People shouldn't be allowed to wake up before 7.
I pulled myself out of bed and crawled towards the door, at the same time as wrapping my white dressing gown around myself, like seaweed around sushi, and I stealthily answered the door.
The postman stood there and wore a rather apologetic smile, with his hand outstretched and holding the A4 envelope I had been expecting. I accepted it graciously and tried to make some excuse as to why I should go back to bed, but he stopped me.
"Sorry Miss, but I have another package for you."
That was weird, "Fanmail?"
The postman laughed,"No Miss, you know that Philip controls that, no Miss, it's a parcel, from a friend, apparently."
"Not a bomb."
"Hopefully not Miss."
With a chortle, and a gesture from the doorman, the postman went back to his daily business, and I was left standing in the hallway of my three storey apartment with a package that I didn't want.
I should've opened it then, but I wasn't dressed and I felt unclean. After my shower I had breakfast, then I decided to read the script in the A4 envelope, after some editing I wrote a short section of a screenplay, and before long I had to have dinner, at 11pm.
I was sat eating a hurriedly put together spaghetti bolognaise and watching my recorded episode of Doctor Who, when I felt the package looking at me. It tried to distract me from my Doctor Who obsession, but not even a mystery parcel could do that. I decided that I would open it tomorrow.