Bored? Chase down a mail truck
GRIN # 370
I’ve missed you, but, alas, I’ve been busy throwing things out there to see what sticks. That’s what writers have to do from time to time, and I haven’t done it in a while.
Sent out a book proposal to ten agents and already received two rejections–within ten minutes of sending. Like the guy being tried for murder, no one wants a verdict that quickly.
But I do get to teach an SAT essay prep class at the Apex Community Center from May through August, so that was a win. My final Chicken Soup for the Soul book (New Moms) came yesterday, too, and I never get tired of opening a box of books with one of my stories inside, but that resulted from an effort six to eight months ago so it’s time to get cracking again.
So I was working this morning when the mail lady came. I could see her in her truck from my office window. She was writing something. When she left I immediately went to the box. I am like an old man that way.
It was one of those orange slips you have to take to the post office to retrieve a package.
I handed it to Jerry. “I don’t know why she didn’t just knock,” I said. “I was sitting right here.”
“Those are my shoes!” Jerry yelled, looking at the slip. “The shoes I wanted to wear today!”
Now, before you go thinking Jerry’s all effeminate and particular with footwear, I should mention these are some kind of special cycling shoes. I really don’t know much more than that, but he’s been waiting on them for weeks.
He thrust the slip back at me. “Just sign this and go!”
“What?! Why me? I’m not chasing down the mail lady,” I said.
“Look at me! I can’t do it!”
He did have a point. He was partially naked in only a pair of bibs–more cycling stuff. It’s made completely of spandex and looks like a kinky pair of overalls. His chest hair looked like a lush bathmat in between the spandex straps.
“I am the best freakin’ wife ever!!!” I yelled, grabbing my keys.
And, God, what a wonderful parting line. I loved yelling that. But as I was yelling, Jerry opened a package that the mail lady DID put in the box. In it, the computer software he purchased so he could continually update my website.
He smiled triumphantly, holding up the box. “And I am the best husband ever!”
Damn! This had so been working in my favor.
So I tried to catch the mail lady. I traced what I thought was her route, went to the post office and even drove through the back lot, eye-balling all the carriers just finishing up for the day. On the way home I spotted a mail truck and gunned it, riding up next to it to catch a glimpse of the driver. Not my lady.
I never did find her. Which is probably a good thing. It’s probably illegal to chase down a mail truck; there’s a good chance I would have been maced.
But can you imagine the bonus points I would have scored had I returned with the package?
I guess that’s one more for the “loss” column.