I had to pick up my own mail this evening, because The Pony was busy pointing the way for people to give blood. Not randomly, of course. He was set up at a table in the school cafeteria for his NHS blood drive.
I was shocked when I reached my arm into EmBee. SHOCKED! What a glutton! Here is what was disgorged from her gullet:
Yeah. Thirteen useless catalogs. THIRTEEN! And one envelope of questionable content addressed to Hick. Criminy! You'd think that somebody got wind of our two outhouses. We don't need this much paper. Not even after a chili/taco/prune all-you-can-eat buffet for fifty of our closest friends.
I suppose this is all that keeps the U.S.P.S. in business. I'm having none of it. All went straight to the circular file. I refuse to buy anything from any of these companies.
Did somebody put Val on a mailing list?
Is it the Thirteenth Day of Christmas already?
ReplyDeleteAaaah. You're onto my scheme. I put you on the AARP list, the bow-hunters' list, the Wagner fans' list, the Charles Manson groupies' list, the "Ferrets are Fun" list and the wearers of stiletto heels list.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy!
We've been flooded with unwanted catalogs as well. And every day I delete a dozen spam advertisements. Tis the season...
ReplyDeleteYeah. They get your number and never forget. For years. Free firestarter for our wood stove!
ReplyDeletejoeh,
ReplyDeleteThe partridge hasn't left the pear tree. So that's a possibility.
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Sioux,
I KNEW there was a reasonable explanation. Thank goodness I'm not on the Crocs of Love list. I couldn't bear to part with my Crocs, even to put a smile on the face of those without.
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Stephen,
I suppose we could wet them down, whip up some papier mache batter, and rebuild some trees. But we must make sure to pronounce it properly. Papier mache. Not that such enunciation makes us pretentious or anything.
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Leenie,
Throw another 'log on the fire!