Note: I’m taking the rest of the week off from posting. I’ll still be updating sporadically over at Love & Hisses, though!
I need to make an announcement here, and I hope y’all aren’t too disappointed: we’re not doing the holiday card exchange this year. The price of the cards combined with the price of postage has just gotten way too high and I really can’t justify the expense anymore.
I know you guys understand.
On Sunday, I didn’t do much of anything. It was gray and rainy (or threatening to rain, in any case) and cold, and I just wasn’t in the mood to do ANYthing. So after a run to the grocery store, I hung out with the Cookies for a little while, and then went upstairs to hang out with the Wonkas. After a short nap with the Wonkas (really, you lay down and are immediately covered with warm purring little bodies. How can you NOT fall asleep?), I walked into the foster kitten room to put something away, and glanced out the window.
And saw our mailbox and the post it had been on strewn in pieces across the lawn.
Sputtering obscenities, I came downstairs and beckoned Fred onto the front porch. We stood and stared in amazement.
“When THE HELL did that happen?” I asked. I’d gotten home from the grocery store less than an hour before and I was pretty sure I’d have noticed if the mailbox was in pieces on the lawn.
(My Mailbox is in Pieces on the Lawn would be an excellent name for a country song.)
Fred thought about it and said that he’d heard a loud sound while I was in with the Cookies. We have a lot – A LOT – of 18 wheelers going by our house, and he’d heard a loud noise and then the sound of air brakes, and then the truck had kept going. He figured it was nothing, so didn’t even bother to look out the window to see what was going on.
There was no putting the mailbox back together – the post was in pieces, the mailbox was in pieces. So Fred picked everything up and tossed it in the trash.
It really really really really fucking PISSES ME OFF that that douchebag couldn’t even be bothered to stop after he hit the goddamn mailbox. Fucking douchebag.
WHAT A DOUCHEBAG.
I can only hope that hitting the mailbox did some damage to his truck, but I’m going to guess that it probably didn’t do any at all.
DOUCHEBAG.
And of course yesterday, because we have no mailbox, the mail lady didn’t leave our mail. She may have driven into the driveway and blown her horn, but I wasn’t home, so no mail for us today.
I REALLY LIKE CHECKING THE MAIL. IT’S THE HIGH POINT OF MY DAY.
Fred stopped at the post office on his way home and talked to the lady who works there. She said they could hold our mail for us at the post office and he could pick it up every day until we get a new mailbox in place. Then she told him to write down our names and address, and as soon as she saw my name, she laughed and said “Oh, I know who you are!”
I REALLY LIKE TO ORDER STUFF ONLINE AND HAVE IT MAILED TO ME, SHADDUP.
Every time I think of that douchebag hitting the mailbox and continuing on, it makes me want to devote my life to tracking him down and kicking his ass.
Fucker.
As we were laying on our respective couches later, talking about it, I kept saying “I cannot believe that utter fucking ASSHOLE just hit the mailbox and KEPT ON GOING!” and Fred kept saying “I can’t believe I didn’t even turn around and look out the window when I heard the noise!”
When we bought this house three years ago, there was no mailbox. The lady who sold us the house said that they didn’t have a mailbox because they were afraid it’d get hit by a drunk driver. Yesterday, Fred said “I wonder if that means it DID get hit by a drunk driver!”
The fucking cars on this road seem to spend an awful lot of time going off the road RIGHT ONTO OUR LAWN. In the two and a half years we’ve lived here, countless cars and trucks have left tire marks on the edge of our lawn near the street. A guy in a truck went off the road, across our lawn, through the ditch, before finally stopping over on the church property. An 18-wheeler came across the road into the ditch. I’m sure there’s more I’m not remembering. AND I’M SURE THEY WERE ALL TALKING ON THEIR CELL PHONES AT THE TIME.
It makes me want to put a cement wall across the front yard protecting the house, because you just KNOW some douchebag is going to come flying up the road and then going flipping across our lawn onto the front porch and into the living room.
Fucking douchebags.
I know it’s deer-hunting season (or so I assume, by the fact that I’m seeing men in hunting gear, and yesterday I saw a truck with two dead deer in the bed), but good lord – I have seen no less than 8 deer laying dead by the side of the road in various parts of this area. I’m thinking cars and trucks are doing a better job of killing those deer than any hunter could!
Excellent news – THE COOKIES’ TESTS ALL CAME BACK NEGATIVE!!! YAY!!!!!
“YES, MOTHER, that IS a booger on my forehead! It’s the new cool thing all the kids are doing! GEEZ!”
“No! You go away! This are MY lap for snuggling in!”
“I said go away!!!”
“First I stunned him with the ear floof, and then I stole his hat! Take that, fat man!”
“I dub thee… Sir Stinkybutt! HEE HEE HEE!”
Pretty Mikey in the sun.
He’s not all ear floof. He’s got some pretty impressive whiskers, too!
Gigglin’ Veruca.
“Hello, hi, HELLO? I’d like in, please!” I spend half my life letting Maxi in and then out. Then in, then out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Repeat FOREVER.
Previously
2008: Google is such a goddamn know-it-all.
2007: Questions, answered.
2006: No entry.
2005: I think I need to go eat some deviled eggs to assuage the pain.
2004: And I just glared at him and thought to myself Just because you’re too stupid and scatterbrained to read and watch TV at the same time doesn’t mean I am, jackass.
2003: “Purring? You don’t like the sound of them purring?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Just a little more knowledge o’ Robyn y’all can add to your notes.
1999: No entry.