#MicroblogMondays:What time do you call this?

There's a knock at the door at 6:30 am. I am shocked awake and immediately thinking something must be wrong.. Terribly wrong. Who knocks on the door at this time of day?

Pulling on the nearest garment to hand - my husband's ancient towelling bathrobe, I fly down the stairs and throw open the front door.

Here stands not a harbinger of misfortune, or a stranger in distress, but the Grocery Delivery Man. I am taken aback, he is totally unphased.

The next time I book my slot, I shall wear my glasses.

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