Is there anything more thrilling than ordering stuff on the Internet?  First, there’s the e-mail acknowledging your recent purchase, and then there’s the email informing you the item has been processed and sent out. It will arrive at your house in five to seven business days.

Like most of life, it’s the anticipation that is so rousing.  And you can track your purchase!

Actually, I do not track; Tom tracks.  Tom also orders, because I don’t have the number to our credit card memorized, and I’m usually in my beddy when I want to order something, and my wallet is downstairs somewhere.

“Will you order this for me?” I ask, handing him my laptop, lazy wuss that I am.  He obliges me more often than not, because we have this fused, neurotic thing going that is older than most of you, dear readers.   Oh, and he’s a naturally kind person.  Oh, and he thinks I’m wildly entertaining and worth the complex requirements of my narcissistic psyche.

I digress.

Another reason ordering from the internet is so energizing is that there is the increasing  likelihood that some hack will discover your debit card, empty your bank account, steal your identity and bingo—you’re one of those people who lives in the public library.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

This afternoon, I asked Tom to track something he’d ordered for me and–Holy Moly, Rocky—today was the projected arrival date.

“Will you go check the mail?” I ask.  I am not dressed to walk to the mailbox.  I am not dressed at all.  For all the reasons listed in paragraph 4 above, he goes out to the mailbox for me.

Not one, but two packages have arrived for me!  It’s Christmas in April!  The first one is a vintage Simplicity decorator pattern #5552, a slipcover for twin bed “with round or wedge style bolster.”  I don’t know how to use my sewing machine, but I am planning to cover the trundle bed and use it for the one hundred square foot apartment at Lincoln Center that is certainly in our future.  Or I may cover the trundle bed in the family room in the basement.  I mean, the media room.  (There are no windows).

The second item is the Amazon Kindle, which I said I would never buy, because I’m so devoted to paper, print and broken book spines.

I’m a liar, so kill me.

I learned to use it in three minutes without Tom’s tutelage and ordered THE THREE WEISSMANNS OF WESTPORT, which I’ve wanted to buy since I read the review in the NY Times.  It downloaded in minutes and I sat back and read the first five delicious chapters in an enlarged font.

As in a dream, I heard a distant voice:  “Hey, hey, HEY!  You’re not paying any attention to me!”  I looked up to see a frantically waving, naked Tom.  I heard the shower running.  I’ve seen a gajillion naked Toms. I returned to the book—I mean, Kindle.

“I can see I’ve lost you forever,” a faraway voice said.

Not forever, just a few hundred pages.

I bought the Kindle because I’m spending the next three months in Vienna and can load it instead of my suitcase with books.  Glorious books. More books than I can read in three months.

I see the future and it is now.  Forgive me, dear readers, but I LOVE this little plastic thingamajig.