The FedEx Guy

For the first time in a long time, I answered the doorbell to find the FedEx guy still at my door with a package. "There's a bit of weight in that one," he said.


I mentioned my gimpy back, and asked kindly for him to move it the 7 feet into our condo. I apologized. I don't like to ask men to do my heavy lifting. I'm a strong woman. I can take care of myself. 


Except when my back is gimpy. Then, I'm just pitiful. Like today. I'm better, but still a bit pitiful. 


I told him I was on muscle relaxers. I showed him the wearable heat pack wrapped around my waist. I apologized again for even asking.


He was very kind about it, said it wasn't a problem at all. 


I offered him a muffin. Reflexively, he declined. 


I told him it was a healthy muffin. With apples. Carrots. Flax. Walnuts.


He took a muffin. 


So I don't feel as guilty about asking a guy to lift a box for me. 


The moral of the story? Good things come to those who lift weight.


Ok, so that was a one-liner worthy of Grandpa A. Or Pastor D. 


But I got a box lifted. And he got a healthy yummy muffin.


As Pastor D would say, "Life is good."