So...

Three hours short of the month's end, I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize. I'm half asleep in bed and not expecting anything from anybody, I let the call go to voicemail twice. The third time, I wisely figure I should pick it up. 

It's a guy with my lost bag, waiting outside my door.

Without any advanced notice, a false delivery notice put in on Monday and an entire week of Air France and the delivery service calling each other liars, my lost luggage from Air France had arrived at my house. 

The delivery guy, who didn't ring my doorbell, chastised me over and over saying he was just about to leave. 

Three weeks of not having any of my comfortable summer clothes. Two days of hanging out at the airport forcing people to help me. Hours and hours of being on the phone with Air France and Delta and solving all the problems with my online form practically by myself.

In the end, I'm the one standing outside like an idiot and apologizing.

My girlfriend said it best. Some people just need to get the last word in. 

On the much more positive side, I did a good packing job. My non perishable items made it safely, including my gifts for Mom and Molly and a wedding present for August.

My biggest loss were the french chocolates in an outside pocket, all melted together. Thankfully, listening to Tom Waits has taught me that this can be turned into a nice parfait.

I'm currently preparing to wash my bag of dirty clothing with a liberal amount of white vinegar. 

Thanks to everyone who read my posts about this on Facebook and Twitter and weighed in with sympathy and Borat/Kazakhstan jokes. I had already assumed the worst had come and gone and was only going through the motions out of my infamous stubbornness.

Now to plan my next trip with six carry-on bags and two extra purchased seats so I don't have to feel angry towards any striking airline workers.