So I opened up the mailbox this morning and there was a long, skinny box sitting there. Oooohh, and it's got my name on it! I love packages in the mail!
I give it a little shake...clank, clank, clank. Hmmm...sounds like metal.
I check for a return address. It's got a Portland address, but it doesn't say who sent it.
Oooohh, I don't love pipe bombs in the mail!
Hey, you know the blogging upper crust, of which I am surely a member, does draw some strange stalkers...maybe somebody out there doesn't like running. Or writing. Or AMERICA (wave flag in background now!)
Well, I don't like shrapnel, you pinko commies!
Drawing on my years of experience watching bad cop TV shows, I smack the box against the mailbox three or four times, hoping to dislodge the yellow wire...or maybe the red one...I don't remember which one you're supposed to cut.
Anyhoo, it didn't blow up, so what the hey, I opened up the box, and HEY, it's a Portland Triathlon stainless steel water bottle.
Odd.
There's no note or explanation of any kind. Just the bottle.
You know, I sort of remember some people walking around with these after the race. I figured they bought them or something. Now I'm thinking the, ahem, late-arrivers to the finish line didn't get one because they had run out for some reason.
But I've got one now, baby!
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