If my level of worry were a color scale, like say, this one, then I would have been at Red, or 'Severe' last Friday afternoon. Over the weekend, it subsided somewhat to Orange, or 'High,' allowing my jaw to relax just enough to put solid food in it again. And Monday it was brought down to a familiar Yellow, or 'Elevated.' I spend most of my time at this level, or at the one just below it: Blue, or 'Guarded.' I am never at Green, or 'Low' - because, you know, if things are going your way, it usually means you're just not looking hard enough.

Last week I decided I had to return this laptop I had ordered from HP. I realized it as soon as I removed it from the box: it was too big, and in this case, size mattered. I didn't want to admit it at first. In all other respects the machine was perfect. I thought maybe I would warm to the idea of this huge laptop over Thanksgiving. But as I traveled with my old laptop, which is a modest 15-inches, it made me realize that carrying a 17-incher - which was like hoisting a small coffee table on my back - was not going to be fun. Those extra two inches really make a difference. And since, when I'm not traveling, I usually plug into a big monitor anyway, the added size just seemed superfluous. It was a poor decision on my part. I'll leave it at that.

So I called HP and told them I'd like to return it. I still wanted to get an HP, but with it being so close to the holidays, and to the release of Vista, I decided I'd wait until the end of January (which is when Vista is supposed to ship) to order another one. HP was okay with that, though they did give it the old college try to get me to exchange instead of return. Their technique was subtle - the power of suggestion. I would say, "I'd like to return my laptop." And they would say, "Okay, I can help you with that exchange." And I would say, "Actually, I'd just like to return it." And they'd come back with, "Which model would work better for you." Luckily, I was on the phone, and couldn't see their hand-waving, or I might have succumb. But in the end, I was able to resist their jedi mind tricks, and they set up a return shipment with FedEx. I didn't even have to pay for shipping. HP really does have pretty good, if persistent, sales and customer support.

By the way - I know that I'm insulting all of you Mac zealots by even contemplating a PC. And believe me, I've tossed this around in my head long and hard. I played with a MacBook Pro all during Thanksgiving and was wowed by it's lightweight, silvery coolness and it's ability to play with multiple operating systems. But in the end it has come down to price, and native software availability. And so I'll be going with a PC for at least one more computer purchase.

Anyway, last Thursday, I taped up the box and headed out to a FedEx Kinkos near me. But on the way, I ran into a FedEx driver making a delivery. So I asked him if I could leave the package with him and he said, "Yeah man." And I said, "Cool, daddy." And I was thinking, How easy is this?

The correct answer is: Too Easy.

The next day I decided to check in on the package. I entered the tracking number and discovered it hadn't yet been scanned, even though it was more than 24 hours since I'd given it to the driver. This was not like FedEx. I began to question the wisdom of giving a brand new two-thousand dollar laptop to the random FedEx guy I crossed paths with on the street, without any kind of receipt, or even his name. Apparently these weren't the only things that were unwise about the decision. Upon calling FedEx, I realized the driver had been a FedEx Ground driver. Not Express. And for those of you who might be clueless, like myself, and think - ridiculously - that if a company has the same name and the same logo, that if you use the same number to call each of them, well then they must be the same company - this information is for you: Stop living with your head in the clouds. They're obviously completely different. Shall I point out that one logo has an orange 'Ex', where the other's is green? Also, and I should think this would be obvious, but one has the word 'Ground' after it, while the other has the word 'Express.' It's a no-brainer.

Basically, FedEx Ground guys are not supposed to take FedEx Express packages. They don't scan in their portable scanning devices. This was information that didn't help me at all. "Okay, well my local driver did take mine," I said. I was told that yes, this is something that happens, so the drivers usually drop things off at certain locations for one-another.

Of course, I didn't hear any of this rationalizing nonsense. All I heard was: Oh well, we do apologize, but you fucked up. Stress level: Red.

I'm of a certain temperament that finds it logical at times like these to simply impale myself on a nearby fence rather than deal with the uncomfortable knowledge that a seemingly benign decision on my part may have, in fact, just cost me two grand for a laptop I didn't want and which I don't even have possession of. But luckily, I do have a more rational side that kicks in and tells me that, no, it is probably better to continue living and face up to this harsh reality than not.

So I waited. I bit my nails. I half listened to conversations around me and muddled my way through a wonderful dinner at M&E's Friday night (sorry guys). Bottom line: I thought about little else all weekend. I did make a call on Saturday and was put in touch with a dispatcher at FedEx Express. He was nice and told me that this sort of thing happens a lot, that there was probably a delay, and it should get picked up either today or Monday. This helped somewhat.

Stress level: Orange.

Saturday I continued to check. No scan. Sunday I practiced various Zen relaxation techniques, which included a walk to the Dupont Farmer's Market and large dosages of NFL football. These had temporary calming effects, but no lasting significance. Monday, I checked again. No scan. I called. The response: wait another day. It's sure to come up today. But I had my own plan: I opened my blinds while I worked and waited to see the FedEx Ground truck out my window. I usually see him several times in the course of any given week and figured if I kept a watchful eye outside, I was sure to catch him. And sure enough, I saw him parked across the street around 2 o'clock. So I went over to talk to him: "Yo, no scanning of the package, Daddy-O," I said. (In my communications with delivery men, I like to pretend I'm in a Quentin Tarantino movie.) "No way," he said. "I dropped it off. Straight up. Check back later, Jack." So no answers yet, but his attitude put me more at ease. It quelled any fears I had that he might have forgotten about it - or worse - made off to Mexico with it (a thought I briefly entertained until I realized it would be a pretty stupid move on his part and surely not worth the effort.) He also gave me his name, which provided me with some leverage if I had to call FedEx again.

Stress level: Yellow.

Monday night, 6:15 pm. Check one more time before meeting Feetnik for dinner. Still no scan. Damn, damn, damn. Ready to call in the A.M.

Stress level: Holding at Yellow.

Yesterday morning, check tracking id - Success! -the package was scanned at 6:25 pm Monday evening. I had just missed it before heading out for dinner. If I had waited about 10 more minutes, it would have prevented one more night of worry. But whatever, I was in the clear! Crisis averted. I was not out two grand.

Stress level: Blue . . . for now.

Thanks, FedEx for making my winter weekend full of fall colors. Now on to my next item of agita: a two week trip to Texas. I leave Saturday, but I think I'll begin packing (and worrying) this morning.

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