Dear United States Postal Service,
What did I ever do to you?
I'm pretty used to getting the neighbor's mail by now, and I don't even mind. It's not too much trouble for me to shove it in between their glass door and real door, I just have to do so silently so that they don't think I'm leaving a bag of flaming poop on their doorstep. It's a little bit difficult since their screen door squeaks like crazy, but really - it's no trouble. Please don't worry about delivering the mail to the correct house. I'm on it. Plus, when you accidentally deliver their Netflix to us, and I accidentally rip them open and then accidentally watch the movie before turning it over... well, no one has to know about that. Although, maybe you could have a word with them about their taste in film. I mean, Elizabethtown? Seriously?
And the whole throwing packages in the alley/leaving them on the doorstep in the pouring rain/shoving them into our poor, mistreated shrubbery thing? Whatever. That time you stamped my mom's birthday package "return to sender" and shipped it back to NJ because I didn't pick it up the same day it was delivered? No big deal. The time you took 26 days to deliver a box of chocolates and then refused to put it through the mailslot? I'm over it.
But when Janet told me that she got me a Crazy Cat Lady present during her thrift store extravaganza weekend, I was pretty excited to see what she'd found. Even though she warned me that it was sort of weird and it only cost 5 cents, I was looking forward to to seeing what it was. My life is pretty boring, I'm not going to lie. Getting something in the mail is grounds for celebration in our household.
That's why I'm so crushed that I'll never see this particular bit of vintage awesomeness, handpicked for me by one of the coolest bloggers on the internet.
I do appreciate that you were thoughtful enough to put the mangled envelope in a plastic bag that said "We Care!" and deliver it, sans contents, to our house. That does mean a lot. And, hey, these things happen. It's a whole 40 miles between Janet's house and mine, you can't be expected to deliver an envelope all that way without accidentally dropping it into a shredder. No biggie.
But can I ask a favor? The next time you're looking through my mail trying to find something for your rabid pet donkey to chew on, could you grab one of those Jury Duty notices instead? Because, really, do I need to be called for Jury Duty FOUR TIMES? I mean, I guess it's up to you. You're the government agency, I'm just a lowly citizen who is apparently REALLY GOOD AT JURY DUTY.
Hey, and could you maybe explain to my fiance that when I bought those cute superhero stamps for him, they were intended TO BE USED. Not to be saved. Maybe you could have a word with him about our Netflix queue while you're at it.
Thanks a bunch!
O. Pink Herring, bedraggled postal customer extraodinaire
PS - Those boring flag stamps are so 2006. Maybe we could get a design with a cool eagle, or something?