The postal service wants another three cents added to the price of mailing a letter. That will make it 58 cents.
Is there anyone besides myself that does not feel that 55 cents is enough to pay for the service they are presently receiving?
I see my assigned mailperson (it varies male or female from time to time) and if they aren’t the absolute slowest tandem in existence, they have to be close. I once saw them take 55 minutes to fill the thirty mailboxes they are responsible for. I did a quick mental calculation using the Diaz Mail Analytical tool and I figured they would each be millionaires in 8 months.
Quite frankly, the postal service has completed its life cycle.
Turn the page.
Everything and everyone has a useful life.
The key is to match it up perfectly with your chronological lifespan.
I know I might offend some very good people saying this, but I’m sure there were some very good people employed by the Pony Express, too.
For my book audio excerpt I will split it into three parts: The preface for the letter “S” and the creepy short story Attention to Detail is today’s offering from my book Emotions: Not your Mama’s ABC’s!
Tomorrow and Friday I will post the longest story in the book, so I will split it in two parts. The reason is if I do it with my usual precise editing standards, it would take two weeks.
On top of that, I would have a rough go of it without cracking myself up by making too many bloopers (aka fuckups).
If I am expounding in an ethereal fashion, it is surely because of the wonderful Indica strain Modified Banana clocking in at BOOM! 32.08% THC. It is not a subtle buzz by any means. It has nice medium-sized buds and they are producing a lot of kif powder in my grinder.
Life is good.
Sadistic is the emotion that covers both stories under the letter “S” and I have one that is by far, one of the sickest, most maniacal things that has ever entered my head. I believe it is SO sick that I might have to take that one to the grave with me. But you’ll like my two offerings.
I really need to kick it in gear with my novel, which is a nice euphemism for quit fucking around.
You would think that I would be motivated, but as we all know, life can and does interrupt.
So our house is going through an Open House soon and we will be getting away for a cool mountain retreat for a few days. I look forward to golfing and maybe kayaking if I can guarantee the Domestic Depot that I won’t capsize and drown.
After we return, our realtor will sort through the offers and present us his recommendations. After I see all the offers. He’s a transparent guy, so that won’t be a problem.