Yesterday morning bell rang at the crack of dawn at me at the door. With fat, sleepy eyes, standing on end Hair, pajamas and thick socks then after that I stumbled Weckshock half in the dream world to the door and asked in Nuschelsprache through the intercom, who stands for as for the door. Response was far too loud, male, unkindly "package for them." That was all. No "good morning" or "Here is the post, I have a package for it" - no, because why waste the precious time with kindness? Probably the best, like me, just a grumpy in the morning and finally had the last glimmer of good mood on the way over the mirror-smooth and snowy paths lost - it is forgiven!
After I went down tapped yesterday morning with my thick, hand-knitted, pink wool socks (including Bobbeln!) And send Flanellschlafanzug with lots of puzzle pieces, the staircase, five cold shock later was bitter cold nose and chattering teeth back in my apartment and the packet was ripped open, I had it in his hand: Oksa Pollock
Whoever such a nice packet of Oetinger-Verlag may want to have to focus on the Oksa-Pollock page still apply as Lesebotschaftler!
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