Monday, December 7, 2009

"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?"

If my posts have of late seemed less serious than usual, it has mostly to do with the fact that by the time I'm finished with homework and studying, my poor brain wants a rest from deep thinking (or thinking at all, rather). For example, today, I've been doing Philosophy homework essentially from 10 AM-8:40 PM, stopping only for meals and the story I will now tell.

At lunch today, I went to check my mailbox. There was a letter and a note that claimed I had a parcel at the reception desk. Intrigued, I walked to the desk and promptly presented the slip of paper to the receptionist, who retreated to the back room to find the mysterious parcel. After several minutes, she returned, with a quizzical expression. "Are you sure you haven't already picked it up," she ventured to ask. (Like I would forget picking up a parcel!) Indignant, but trying to remain polite, I replied in the negative and said I would return at a different time to see if it had been found. Later that afternoon, I received an email saying they had found it and it was ready to be picked up, so I bundled back up and walked over to the school, my curiosity once again piqued.

When I arrived, I was handed a mysterious Christmas-y box, approximately the dimensions of a DVD case, containing Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window. So far, I have deduced the following:
1. It is from a Canadian.
2. It is probably not from a girl in residence (we're in the midst of a secret santa exchange, so this would seem to be a logical assumption until one considers that if it were a girl on my floor, she would have had access to my room. Why go through the school instead of just leaving it on my desk?)
3. This parcel was not mailed.
4. This person very much wants to remain anonymous (not only was there no note, it didn't even have my name on it).
5. The very fact that it's Rear Window not only implies it's someone who knows I love Hitchcock and Grace Kelly, but also someone who knows I don't already own the movie. This narrows down the suspect list.
Deduct what you may from all this. I, for one, am too tired to desire a conclusion tonight.   


Joshua T. Aitkenhead said...

Point 2 is not a good argument for it to not be a girl. In fact, the very truth that you are in the midst of a Secret Santa supports the reasoning that someone would go through the extra trouble of giving it to reception without a name or note.
Why would it be a boy? What is the reason he is trying so hard to keep it a secret from you? If you can answer the great "why" question, then you can claim it's a boy, but for now, a girl has a great motive for giving in secret.

Kelsey Sturm said...

I didn't expand that point too much, but there are other minor details that point to it not being a girl, or at the very least, being a tomboy, and one that is going to rather extreme measures to remain incognito. The point still stands, there are far easier ways to give that gift for a girl that would have retained the mystery of the giver equally, so what would make someone go to that effort, especially during such a busy week? Fact of the matter is, there's only one person who fits that description on my floor, and I know she has someone else beyond a doubt.