You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Bills in my mail box.
Don’t want them, don’t like them.
My mail box is a parasite on my street.
It’s dark foreboding shell and it’s bright red metallic flag are harbingers of economic ruin.
Don’t you hate bills? Wouldn’t your life be better if your air conditioning was free? Your Gas free? Your water free?
Of course it would!
But that is only an option in the game of Candy Land.
So bills they will come.
And where do they come? My mailbox.
I hate my mailbox like I hate dental hygienists talking to me while they have their fists in my mouth.
I hate bills and I hate my mailbox.
I hate the billing envelopes. They are so impersonal. Windows with my name, bold typed faced, so alarming.
I hate my mailbox. Black and dented and stupid. Birds poop on it. Kids smash it with baseball bats. It’s crooked and only has numbers on one side. I want the home owners association to take it down.
The American mail box, once a symbol of delivery through thick and thin is now a bamboo shoot under my toe nail.It’s like a landmark of trouble, designating where I live and where things I don’t want should be delivered.
What good is the mailbox? It’s not like you ever open the door and something good is inside. It’s not like the winning lottery ticket is in there. It’s not like grandma sent you a birthday card with a check. It’s a box to stuff problems, and waste space.
The mailbox to me is a receptacle of bad news, spoiled dreams and trees killed unnecessarily.
The gas bill, the light bill, a real estate placard in four colors on good card stock. Nothing good can come from the US Mail.
I keep the bills, reluctantly, snarling as I throw them in the kitchen drawer. The advertisements, I crumple them and throw them in the recycling bag.
How many of these flyers work? Do you ever respond to a direct mail campaign.
How impersonal. Dear Resident. Blah Blah Blah. Real estate this. Roof clutter removal that. Stay out of my mailbox!
I get so tired of the endless array of bills that come to me. I wish I could just shut off the water and the power and live like Ted Kazinsky, the uni-bomber. He stole sunshine and cooked on a wood burning stove when he wasn’t sending mail bombs.
I’m just saying. Go on line. Use direct withdrawal. Take down the mail box. Save your advertisements for someone who wants them.
Just bitching. Sorry.
Life’s Crazy™