every now and again i get one of those beige cards in my mailbox, the ones from the post office, that say “we tried to deliver an item to you earlier, but you weren’t in, so now you have to come to us and stand in a queue for twenty minutes and lug it home yourself”. thing is, i don’t believe the post office actually tries to deliver anything other than letters and bills anymore. i am home all the time and no one ever rings the doorbell to say “parcel delivery for you”.
the upside to this farce is that a couple weeks ago, when i got to the front of the line at the post office and handed my beige card over to the counter lady, she said, “oh i don’t need to see your i.d.. i know you,” which was dang near the nicest thing that’s been said to me at a post office.
today i queued again, with a card that appeared in my mailbox on friday, which meant that every time my eyes fell on it all weekend, it made me wonder “what is it? what is it?” what is it, in that fat, warm yellow envelope with my name writ large in fancy handwriting?
thank you, nellicent!
incidently, the fine folk at mcsweeneys who put out said comic book also run a page about “new food“. no, nary a diatribe on genetically modified brussels sprouts in sight. more a growing collection of tantalising new products like white chocolate peanut butter cups, a beverage called “pom” and microwave piroshki. those of youse who were intrigued by the melted butter twisties of two posts ago might like to investigate.