|"It says I'm an instant winner. Marge? Saddle up the donkey, we're headed downtown."|
Besides food to eat, shelter over my head, and cable, I really have nothing to look forward to. Don't cry for me though. Cry for my sports bras. Now those are garments I really feel bad for. What with the stretching and the screaming and me weeping on them all the time...eh em. My point is, as a stay at home mom, I have few things that knock my socks off, on a daily basis. So, when the mail gets here, I put on pants and skip all the way to the box. At which point, I usually wave the stack of paper at my neighbors and yell,
"I've got mail just like Tom Hanks. I'd say "like Meg Ryan", but everyone knows she's not America's Sweetheart anymore."
Unfortunately, my elation with the mail has led to a slight delirium concerning what's being sent. Sure, I know what a bill looks like:
1. Something that accidentally gets stuck behind the refrigerator:
(Hey, Paige. I think your power went out because the bill "fell" behind the refrigerator, not because of the tornado no one saw but you.)
1. To request money that may be imaginary.
(We tried to bill Mrs. Kellerman, but we think she left the state again.)
No, what I'm talking about is junk mail. I can't resist the colorful flyers, the scratch-off mailers that smell like mass-copied consideration, the little, plastic window that says "To the winner". When I leaf through the stack of paper, I can't help extracting the mysterious envelope and running to find Husband...
"Honey, it says here we won!"
"No we didn't."
I rip the envelope open. "We did to. See? This here key starts the car they have waiting for us."
"That key's made of cardboard."
Carefully, I slide it into my pocket. "That's because it probably goes to a Prius. Metal's bad for the environment. Everyone knows that. Enjoy killing dolphins, in your gas guzzler."
"Cupcake, no need to go to work tomorrow. I just won a million dollars."
The one addressed to "Current Resident or Parolee" that has a coupon for a Sonic bacon cheeseburger on the back?"
"Yeah, a coupon for a million cheeseburgers."
"Buttercrumble, our prayers are answered."
"Someone's adopting the kids?"
"Nope, I got this letter that says they'll buy our house and give us a 100,000 because they're happy to do business with us. They just need our socials, dates of birth and times we're most likely to not be home."
"Paige, this letter is written on the back of a Burger King wrapper, in magic marker."
"Oh, so that's ketchup on the bottom and not blood? That's a relief."
Until Next Time, Readers!