Oranges

Every year my grandfather sends me a box of oranges and grapefruits - freshly picked from the groves of Florida. And every year they are sent to the wrong address. Last year we ended up with THREE boxes of oranges when it was all said and done. Only God knows how many boxes of oranges ended up at my previous addresses. That poor company and my poor Grandfather so much confusion.

Now, let me introduce y'all to my Grandfather. Grandpa Nick is a darling Italian retired NY City Police Officer, who lives in Long Island. His accent is as thick as it comes and he says "forgetabouit" at the end of every sentence.

This is Grandpa Nick.

Every Monday, Grandpa and I have a phone date. This past Monday Grandpa wanted to know if I had received the oranges. I had not. I asked Grandpa where he sent them - he replies "Hold the phone, let me check!" I tell him it's okay, he doesn't need to get up and check, if they go to my old address I can pick them up from Jennifer. We continue on with our conversation and all of sudden he goes "Katie, let me check the address, hold awhile!"

Grandpa gets back on the phone and starts yelling into the phone, "Here we go 1-3..."

Me: "Grandpa, that's the right address. You have -"

Grandpa: "Your birthday, May..."

Me: "Yes, Grandpa that is ri- "

Grandpa: "Your social security number 1-1-...."

Me: "DO WHAT?! Grandpa, um yes, that would be all of my information."

Grandpa: "Yup! Yup! I have it all written down."

Me: "Oh well that is good... let's just hope you lock the doors."

Good news - Oranges and grapefruits arrived yesterday. Some more good news -my identity has yet to be stolen, at least to my knowledge. Eh, forgetabouit.