Mom really enjoyed hearing about my afternoon nosh on Juno's nose. If laughter is the best medicine, she will be immune to a multitude of ailments in the near future. Furthermore, after talking to her last night around 9:30, then calling her again this morning at 6:00, she informed me she had not really learned anything new during that time period. But she had laughed out loud every time she thought of Juno's nose between my teeth. I assured her I had not tasted any other dogs' noses overnight. And that I awoke with a funny taste in my mouth.
As if that little snout-munching episode is not enough to make a believer of you...here is incident #19,478 to illustrate how the universe conspires against me.
Perhaps I mentioned that I have stories published in Not Your Mother's Book...on Being a Parent, and Not Your Mother's Book...on Home Improvement. Both anthologies were released on the 11th of September. I have been waiting for my copies of these editions, as I have many fans clamoring to read them, asking how they can get their hands on such modern classics. Of course I refer them to Amazon, and also tell them I can be the middleman. My loyal fans have been patiently awaiting their Val brain candy.
Being a novice at this book-hawking business, I did not sense anything amiss in the lengthy time it is taking to get my books. Maybe things just run this slow in The Business. I do not ever want it said that Val is a complainer. Stop that! I'm serious!
Today I had a message on my machine to call the CEO herself about the problem with my book shipment. "Isn't that special!" I thought. "She's taking the time to call me in person. She must be psychic! I have never even asked where my books might be." Maybe I should have.
Seems the company received the shipping envelope thingy that was taped to the box, and the invoice as well, from the USPS. How kind of the USPS to mail back all that pertinent information that was attached to my box of books, yet not the box of books! The USPS says they have no idea where the books are. They are in the dead-mouse-smelling triangle, I suppose.
Tomorrow, I have to go to two TWO TWO post offices to inquire as to the whereabouts of my books. Seriously. How can a box of books disappear? It's not like they're two tubes of Clearasil left on top of my mailbox row for two hours in a pharmacy package. It's not like people around here have a thirst for knowledge. Or yearn for it. I know I will eventually get my books, one way or another. I'm just tired of the universe conspiring against me. This Sasquatch is tired of bein' messed with.
It's nobody's fault but the United States Postal Service. That bunch of Newmans must be hiding my package in a storage unit until they can trick a neighbor into delivering on Sunday.