Asking my mail carrier to prom.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Been so testy. So testy. SO TESTY.

I came into work on Saturday night to get a few extra hours, and one of my bosses handed me a note that the mail carrier left for me. We laughed about it, because apparently the act of parking my car in front of the house I spend more time in than my own had really done him in. He really lost his shit, having to deliver mail to us. He simply could not HANDLE my car being parked sorta near the mailbox anymore. It was too much. It was his Kryptonite. It was his Hurricane Katrina. It was his own mental Holocaust.

The note read, "STOP PARKING CAR IN FRONT OF MAILBOX. REPEATEDLY PARKED IN MY WAY AND IS CONSISTENTLY INCONVENIENT FOR ME." In all caps. In almost indecipherable anger-scribble.

So my bosses and I joked and laughed, because who gets so upset about something like that? Who? Somebody who obviously moonlights as a serial killer, that's who. How many people park their cars in front of their houses? Surely I can't be the only person guilty of the mortal sin of parking my car in front of a house. Or am I? Am I just oblivious? Am I one of those people who is just so self-involved and clueless? Did I forget to take my clue pills again?

I left this note for him today. Can't wait to see if he responds. Can't wait to find out. This is just like that time I asked that hot Jewish bass player to Winter Formal when I was 14 and zitty via AOL Instant Messenger... but hotter (and, potentially, with more zits)!