Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness

The postie knocked on the door. When I got to it and opened it, I saw a box standing neatly just outside.

Andrew saw it and said "Someone bought you a bottle of whiskey?!" The box was indeed the right size and shape. But I wasn't expecting any (makes me laugh that he wouldn't think I'd gotten it for myself, that it must've been bought for me). I picked it up with the envelope on the doormat and said I hadn't even had a chance to look yet. When I did, it had his name on it! He, the teetotaler, was baffled.

It turned out to be a big bottle of hand soap. Good thing too; I have plenty of whisky! It's hand soap we're low on.

I was much more excited about the other piece of post, a letter addressed to me that might be the first time I've seen "Mx H [lastname]" on an envelope. It feels Good.

Especially good since it's a medical-adjacent thing and those usually address me as Miss because my GP has the worst admin (I've been married the whole time I've lived here! this has always been wrong! and yet). This thing I could refer myself for, so it has the right title!