Our heroine—let’s call her Sandy—is single, lives in the middle of nowhere, and has been working from home for more than a year.
The UPS guy drops a box containing several cases of Gravy Lovers Fancy Feast cat food on the sidewalk right in front of Sandy’s house, and the cans go rolling into the street. Sandy emerges in a robe, and they chase the dented cans together, ogling each other’s backsides as they bend down to retrieve the food from the gutter. After they’ve collected everything, the UPS guy asks Sandy what her cat’s name is. Sandy admits that she doesn’t have a cat—she just loves the taste of gravy.
After a catastrophic virtual Bumble date, Sandy realizes that she’s had it with men. So she fires up her Etsy app and orders a seagrass doormat that reads “Welcome Home: Bra Off (check), Sweatpants On (check), Hair in a Bun (check).” It’s delivered in a transparent plastic package, and when the UPS guy drops it off he informs her that slovenliness is his greatest turn-on.
Sandy orders several bottles of Pinot Grigio from Drizly for girls’ night with her quirky best friend and neighbor, Amy. (We know that she is quirky because her glasses have slightly retro frames.) When the UPS guy delivers the booze, he rings the doorbell and asks to see some I.D. Sandy coyly says, “UPS doesn’t usually check I.D.” He responds, “This is your third alcoholic-beverage delivery this week, and I don’t want blood on my hands.” His concern ultimately blossoms into admiration of Sandy’s ability to cut loose.
Sandy’s cockapoo, Ryan Gosling, never fails to bound, barking, to the front yard when the UPS guy arrives. So the UPS guy plies Ryan with dog treats, which he stockpiles in his truck to manage the occupational hazard of canine aggression. Little does he know that Ryan has a highly sensitive stomach and develops chronic diarrhea as a result of the treats. When Sandy finally figures out the source of the dog’s gastrointestinal distress, she has to have an awkward conversation with the UPS guy—one that unexpectedly turns flirtatious.
Sandy makes partner at her law firm after several years of working longer hours than her male counterparts. She celebrates her promotion by having a glass of champagne with her quirky best friend, Amy. In a spontaneous toast, Sandy vows to finally focus on her private life and—have a baby! Since there’s no Mr. Right in sight, Sandy has sperm shipped in, on dry ice, from a suitably tall donor in Los Angeles. Alas, unseasonably hot temperatures compromise the subzero container, and the UPS guy is forced to deliver some bad news. After a quick cry, Sandy gets an idea. . . .
Sandy’s grandmother passes away at age one hundred, at home in Tucson. The urn containing her ashes is sent to her loving granddaughter, in a box marked with an orange sticker that reads “Cremated Remains.” The UPS guy, never having delivered a human before, solemnly wipes the Dorito dust off his hands before lifting the package. When he hands the box to Sandy, she sighs. “Nana’s only wish was to see me settle down with someone nice,” she says. “But I never seem to meet anyone.”
