Clearly, there is something wrong with me. Did the Earths axis shift, or something cataclysmically similar occur Im simply not aware of? My Mom raised me well, at least Ive always thought so. But something is obviously askew. . . We moved into our new house about six weeks ago. I made a very poor impression right away on my new next door neighbors when I made an apparently horrible error in judgement one morning when trying to hurriedly get our garbage out as the garbage truck quickly approached. I actually placed - get this, I know, you dont have to tell me, I actually placed a bag of our garbage that had spilled out of our full-to-the-tilt can into my next door neighbors can, which was basically empty and a foot removed from ours out on the curb. What was I thinking? Ive racked my brain incessantly since, self-examining my heart, et al, in the painstaking weeks since. No, I hadnt the moral fiber or substance to realize my mistake on my own. That enlightenment came in the form a letter from my neighbor ridiculing my soul and outlining my malicious intent towards them. It was taped to my mailbox. I vented at the time of the events occurrence on Facebook, subconsciously seeking pity, I suppose, for my grievous and abhorrent behavior. By confessing publicly, I hoped to garner at least a shred of release from the guilt gripping my conscious like an ever-tightening vice. It didnt work. Nor did my many attempts to establish a semblance of neighborly warmth with the poor victims I carelessly debauched living next to me. Despite a special delivery of Christmas Cookies baked especially for them by my sweet daughter, nary a word has been uttered between those residing on those premises to any of us residing on this particular plot of residentially zoned piece of Americana. . . . Until just now. I was working inside the house when I realized fresh air and a five-minute walk outdoors sounded splendid. Heartless soul that I am, I ambled to the front yard, where, much to my amazement, the elder male victim from next door was standing at the end of my driveway with his hand in the mailbox. MY MAILBOX, not his. I dont know what his name is, having never had the pleasure. I do now know what his name is not, however. I also am fairly certain that Not-OSAMA will never touch my mailbox again. For the record, I didnt physically threaten him nor did I in any way cause him to think by way of verbal or expressive behavior that his life may be endangered or bodily harm may befall him as a consequence of my presence. Like I said, my Mother raised me right. But, I bet you anything you want to bet, he never lays a hand on my mailbox again. You dont want to bet me on that, trust me. :)
Posted on: Fri, 23 Jan 2015 01:03:40 +0000
Trending Topics
© 2015