Friday, June 16, 2006

Getting the Mail Part 2

I go back out to get the mail at 12:23. This time it has to be there, right?

No mail.

I feel like an idiot. Hagrid's info was faulty. (Although, to be honest, I think he said "after 12," but still.....)

I go sit in the park again, wary for kids I might frighten with my dangerous air. I try to judge if any of the cars passing by will be the substitute mail carrier. I realize I've never actually seen the mail being delivered. For all I know the pole coming out of the ground is a tube, and there is no mail carrier. (Actually, that'd be kind of cool.)

As car after car go by, I finally realize it's fool's play. I head back home. As I'm going I "sense" a car slowing down behind me. I want to look, but I just know if I do the car will go on by. The only way I can possibly ensure this is the mail carrier is to keep on home.

And it works. I don't want to go all the way back home, so I stand there like an idiot for twenty minutes as the woman puts all the mail in the slot. Sure seems like she's taking her sweet-ass time. Of course she's a sub, but still; it's not like she has to deliver them door to door. (Boy in my day, the mail carrier did go door to doo, up hill, fighting off dogs and drug dealers, with his brother and sister mail carriers on his back.)

Finally she's done and I head back. This very very large woman comes "running" by, and stops in exhaustion at the mailbox. I say "running" because I've seen men go to a colonoscopy faster. She's wearing running clothes that are soaked through like it's raining, and she's breathing like she just finished an ironman triathalon.

(I'm a large person myself, so I don't write these things to make fun, but, well, you'll see.)

The woman pulls out a giant Big Chunk bar and begins chowing down. I want to laugh but don't; how she rewards herself for her run is her business. She sees me and my keys and smiles triumphantly.

"I got here first. I'm the first one to get the mail."

I smile, gritting my teeth. "I was waiting on the other side of the street. This is the second time I've come here today."

"I saw you," she says desmissively. "But I was here first."

"I guess you were." I say, determined not to take the bait.

The woman looks at my shirt, and says, "Didn't I see you wear that shirt yesterday?" She tisks. "You really ought to change clothes more often. It's not a very flattering shirt, anyway. Not your color and..." she leans in and stage whispers, "A bit small on you, if you know what I mean."

What could she possibly mean? At this point I'm starting to get annoyed. First I'm dangerous, now I'm a slob who can't change his clothes, and wears bad stuff at that? I so want to say something. I literally bite my tongue at the retort, but finally manage:

"Do I even know you?"

"I've seen you around."

"I see."

The woman is standing in front of my mailbox. (Actually, it's not that close to her, but this is the kind of woman who, when she sits around the house she really sits around the house, so my mail box is effectively blocked.)

"Can I get my mail?" I ask, as polite as I can manage.

"Hold your horses." She says, shooing me away. "One minute won't kill you."

The woman than starts to sort through her mail, making little noises of appreciation at each little thing. She pulls out a second Big Crunch (the first was demolished) and starts eating that too!

This is too much. I thought of an incredible thing to say, about how this must be the only box she ever gets stuffed, but I held off. (That my friends, is my gift to the world for this day; not saying that.)

"All that running you've been doing is really paying off." I say.

"Really? She preens.

"Yeah. Didn't you used to be three large people?"

She doesn't get it, looking at me in confusion.

"No....I've always just been one person."

"Oh, then it didn't take."

I shoulder past her and get my mail. NO F*************G MOVIES!

I'm going back to bed, for at least a week.

Maybe I'll build a fort.


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