Going Postal on the Mail Carrier

It's been one of those days. Where are do-overs when you need them?

First, I went to pay for some groceries at Walmart. No wallet. I went out to the van and looked all around. No wallet. I guess it fell out of my lap or pocket or something, and someone picked it up. Now comes the fun of replacing credit cards, insurance cards, driver's license, et cetera, et cetera.

Later, we were eating a tasty meal at an Italian restaurant, and our great granddaughter upchucked all over the carpet. So, we stopped mid-meal to clean her and the floor.

But the thing that really stuck to my craw was the sticker on my car window. We'd been babysitting in our grandson's neighborhood. There are a lot of starter homes there with mailboxes every few feet and small driveways. I had to park on the side walk. to further congest matters, it was trash pickup day.

The sticker read: "Please do not park in a manner that blocks the mailbox. The carrier is unable to deliver the mail." Or something to this effect. All the carrier had to do was move his or her @!%!#$**@! ass and walk over to the @!#$**@! box and put the @!%!#$**@! mail in it. What's so @!%#$**@! hard about that? No wonder we have so much obesity in this society. Every one's getting too @!%$**@! lazy to walk. I bet the mail carrier's fat. In fact, I hope s/he/it is. @!%!#$**@! that carrier and @!%!#$**@ anyone who doesn't @!%!#$**@! that carrier. And now I've got to scrape the stubborn paper-torn remains of that @!%!#$**@! sticker off my window, so my vision won't be obstructed the next time I see a mail carrier coming down the street.

Whew!

Well. brethren and sistren(?), don't believe everything they tell you. Even nice guys have a dark side.