Yes, I have a post office box instead of a real mailing address. Because I’ve moved too many times in the last three years to keep the post office updated and I do want my mail, even if it is almost exclusively junk mail consisting of fat AARP envelopes telling me I need more insurance to pay for my funeral, and other cheery advertisements to make me feel older than God. Seriously, they must mail this stuff to me three or four times a week. My conclusion is that the people over there retired too early and have too much time on their hands. Someone check into that, would you?
But I digress…
And maybe 4 moves in 3 years doesn’t seem like that many times, but the first one was so traumatic that it really should count for a billion times. And then I accidentally moved into the House of Filth (hello cockroaches, I’ll be subletting this room from you…), and then back to Chez Disney Condo, which my landlords/roommates then SOLD and I was forced to move again, and we moved into Chez Disney House which will always be full of half-empty boxes and random workmen fixing stuff I did not know was broken. And which is too far away, even if I do get to see horses on the way home from work which makes my Texas heart happy.
Plus I’m currently living without cable and it’s making me cranky. How can I be a balanced, contributing member of society without HGTV and BBC America?
And I’m looking for a new place right now even though the voice in the back of my head says I’m crazy to even think about it.
And anyway, I should have reached my lifetime quota of moves already, as I lived more places before I was 10 than the gypsies did in all of the last century.
But I digress again…
Also, I have a p.o. box because I’m afraid of stalkers.
Even though now I’m in danger of being one. See first paragraph.
I’m like that.
Obsessive, I mean.
When I become interested in something, I can go on and on about it for hours – and frequently do, which might explain why my friends and family live far far away…
Anyway, I have to go now because if I wait too long the horses will be inside the barns, and I won’t get to see the rabbits eating the grass in the park. Which always makes me shout “BUNNIES!!!” in a giddy voice, over and over, as if I were a stunned 3-year-old.
And then I start wondering if the horses and bunnies will become zombies when the Zombie Apocalypse happens. And if they do, will they say “Graaaaaaaaaaasssssssss”?
Stuff like this explains why no one car pools with me.
But I digress…
I’m going to the post office now.
Probably y’all should issue an alert of some kind.