He left me the nastiest note this weekend… something along the lines of “Bitch, pick up your mail!” And what’s worse… he kidnapped all my mail and took it back to his lair (the post office). I had to go and wait in a 20 minute line with Toothless Tommy and Stands Too Close Sally.

“I’m here to pick up my mail,” I stated with confidence to the woman behind the counter. “Was it on vacation hold?” she inquired. I shrunk a bit as I murmured, “No, I got in trouble for my mailbox being too full.” She lumbered off and was gone for what seemed like an eternity. I was expecting her to come out dragging one of those huge “fan mail” sized sacks… but it was a modest little bag… just slightly bigger than a barf bag. (Which is so appropriate as my mail makes me want to barf!) I was expecting a lecture, instead she complained about one of the jerks in the back (no doubt, my mailman).

That blasted mailman… he’s forgotten about the time that he left me two books of stamps when I only paid for one… and I returned the extra book to him with a pleasant note. That was the honeymoon phase, I guess. A note alone would have shamed me into being more punctual with my mail… but he had to involve an errand… to the post office! *shudders*

I don’t have any power to do anything in retaliation… and now I have to walk the 10 miles down to my mailbox to pick up my mail every day or my life will be in danger… but I CAN secretly loathe him from afar… and I plan on doing just that. (I’m sure the feeling is mutual!)