Non-political Blog (Honest!)

I'm waiting to the mail to come. It seems like I'm always waiting for the mail. That's a measure of how boring my life is. I used to wait for it when I was a teenager and had a penpal in a foreign country. I wore the seat out of a perfectly good pair of jeans (although I hated jeans) sitting on the concrete stoop, watching for the mailman.

Now we live on a country road that gets a fair amount of traffic. Our mail carrier, a very nice woman who calls me by name and waves even if she doesn't have anything for me, comes noonish-oneish. She is not someone you can set your clock by, but that doesn't matter. She has a long route and probably has some trouble with traffic.

I've never met a mail carrier who has had a really bad attitude. Maybe I'm lucky, or maybe they are mostly nice, helpful people.

It's too bad they bring mostly bills and advertisements. But they're just doing their jobs.

Yep, I guess she's come by. Now I have to get back to work.