106
R. Linda:
It was 29 below the day before yesterday night and a whopping 27 below by the time we got up. I think the temp rose to a whole 20 below (yes, a heat wave in these parts), and then dipped down again last night. It was the first day of Winter so I guess that explains it. However, I be sick of the snow. I be sick of the postman, I be sick of hot cocoa, we are supposed to celebrate Christmas here, Tonya and meself, but I have to tell you R. Linda, I be snowed out.
I be hatching an escape plan. I reckon I can tell Tonya I be going down the drive for the junk mail and the reason for the backpack I be wearing, is I be training meself for downhill racing now that I have found a pair of skis in the old shed. The backpack is added weight used in training (I could lie). Then without her being suspicious I can ski me way down to the end of the driveway, and keep on going off to sanity and freedom.
I do this in me mind quite a bit, but I can't bring meself to carry out me dastardly plan.
A while ago as I was sipping me tea, up chugs the postman's car to the house. He lumbers his ample self out and puts this tube-like thing next to the garage, climbs back in, pulls off and I be calling Tonya that the postman has come and he's delivering . . . "Not your package something else."
Well, turns out it was something else entirely, like someone else's mail. Is he blind too? One would think if he was bringing a delivery to the house he'd bring the other one too. But no Homey don't deliver the same package twice, even if technically he never delivered it the first time. Actually, Homey don't deliver!
When and if he does, the recipient lives not even on the same road. I don't know who Glenn Baker is. I don't know where Little Cricket Road is, I don't see the name in the phone book to even let the man know I have his mail. I was forced to call the post office.
Now here is an experience of being driven totally over the wall if there is one. I ring through and this woman answers, Post Mistress McGinty. I say, Ms. McGinty and she stops me and corrects me speech to POST MISTRESS. All right then I say, and address her properly and I tell her me tale of woe on the tube delivery and the non-delivery of the "live" package. I thought while I had her ear I might as well fill it.
There was no sound on the other end of the line and I even looked at me phone, then spoke into it several times with the single word, "Hello?"
Finally, she says, "I didn't understand a word of that. Could you repeat it slowly?"
Now I be taken aback. So once again, and slowly, I start talking and she cuts me short and asks me if me mother could come to the phone. I be confused and said, why do you need me Mam and she said, just put her on. Well, I look around and no me Mam is not here, so I sit there gobsmacked until Tonya comes in and asks me what is the matter with me. I tell her and she takes the phone and makes the same mistake I did with the Ms. McGinty and is corrected, and on she goes explaining in opposite order the problem with our postman.
I be sitting there wondering why the woman couldn't understand me, why she must have thought I was an adolescent when suddenly I see Tonya's brow knit and I know trouble be a brewin'.
"What you mean you can't understand a word I say?" She demands into the phone and then silence as she listens.
"I am from New Jersey." Pause,. "New Jersey is NOT a suburb of New York thank you very much." Pause. "I said the man does not do his job. He can't deliver mail to save himself." Pause, pause, long pause. "I beg your pardon? I am not foreign. No, I said I was from New Jersey," Pause. "Yes that is right, no it isn't Jahsey, it is JERsee." Pause Again. "I don't care how many years he's been delivering the mail, he hasn't got the hang of it. You don't deliver a package to the house, then put the rest of the letters down in the mailbox." Pause. "Well, that's just wonderful. What?" Pause. "The driveway is almost 50 yards long, and if there is anything like snow on it, he won't attempt it even if it is ploughed! Half the time we don't know if we have mail because he doesn't bother to leave us any notification." Pause, long pause. "Look, he left me this unreadable slip telling me to go to the post office to pick up a package that he could have delivered because my friend was right at the mailbox at the time." Very long pause, eyebrows descending in a fierce scowl. "When the snow melts? When the snow melts? That could take until March." Pause. "April? It melts in April?" Pause. "Whatever! YOU people are holding hostage my sister's mail to me! It will be brown by APRIL. Dead, very dead unless you are going to water it." Pause. "Of course, you don't do that, how stupid of me." Super long pause. "He doesn't bring the letters up with the package in case no one's at home? You are telling me that is standard practice? Postal regulations? Well!" Slam went the phone. I stayed quiet.
Tonya grabbed the phone again and banged it on the cradle several times. Then she banged the chair in under the table with a good swift kick and ended this tirade with her hands on her hips (never a good sign). I raised an eyebrow in her direction. She sighed, "I'm going down there."
Uh oh. I jumped up because in me mind I could see it all. Tonya ripping postal posters off the wall as she stamped around, throwing trays of stamps through the window, the destruction everywhere. I grab hold of her wrists and say, "I'll go."
What the hell am I thinking? I'll go? Holy cow Batman why did I volunteer? What do I care if she trashes the post office, what do I care if they send her away for destroying government property, well begorrah me, I do care! I'd be alone with no car, lots of snow and precious little else.
I get me into me boots, struggle with me coat as she is encouraging me, telling me just what to say, and helping me deck meself out for a twenty-mile hike to a post office where I think I know the location. Meanwhile, me mind is trying to reckon where I saw the post office. I could be gone for a very long time R. Linda. I could be lost in the frozen tundra for months. All I could hope was that the blue frigid sky stayed that way and grey snow-filled clouds did not descend upon me as I skied around New Boston looking for the post office! I am such an idiot.
Tonya nearly pushed me out the door and off I went to fetch the skis. I will slowly put them on thinking what a fool be I, but with little choice (because how manly would it be if I come knocking on the backdoor for her to let me in because I be wimping out), so I be about to start down the drive to the snow-covered road and nothingness but wintry expanse.
Later, much later probably,
R. Linda:
It was 29 below the day before yesterday night and a whopping 27 below by the time we got up. I think the temp rose to a whole 20 below (yes, a heat wave in these parts), and then dipped down again last night. It was the first day of Winter so I guess that explains it. However, I be sick of the snow. I be sick of the postman, I be sick of hot cocoa, we are supposed to celebrate Christmas here, Tonya and meself, but I have to tell you R. Linda, I be snowed out.
I be hatching an escape plan. I reckon I can tell Tonya I be going down the drive for the junk mail and the reason for the backpack I be wearing, is I be training meself for downhill racing now that I have found a pair of skis in the old shed. The backpack is added weight used in training (I could lie). Then without her being suspicious I can ski me way down to the end of the driveway, and keep on going off to sanity and freedom.
I do this in me mind quite a bit, but I can't bring meself to carry out me dastardly plan.
A while ago as I was sipping me tea, up chugs the postman's car to the house. He lumbers his ample self out and puts this tube-like thing next to the garage, climbs back in, pulls off and I be calling Tonya that the postman has come and he's delivering . . . "Not your package something else."
Well, turns out it was something else entirely, like someone else's mail. Is he blind too? One would think if he was bringing a delivery to the house he'd bring the other one too. But no Homey don't deliver the same package twice, even if technically he never delivered it the first time. Actually, Homey don't deliver!
When and if he does, the recipient lives not even on the same road. I don't know who Glenn Baker is. I don't know where Little Cricket Road is, I don't see the name in the phone book to even let the man know I have his mail. I was forced to call the post office.
Now here is an experience of being driven totally over the wall if there is one. I ring through and this woman answers, Post Mistress McGinty. I say, Ms. McGinty and she stops me and corrects me speech to POST MISTRESS. All right then I say, and address her properly and I tell her me tale of woe on the tube delivery and the non-delivery of the "live" package. I thought while I had her ear I might as well fill it.
There was no sound on the other end of the line and I even looked at me phone, then spoke into it several times with the single word, "Hello?"
Finally, she says, "I didn't understand a word of that. Could you repeat it slowly?"
Now I be taken aback. So once again, and slowly, I start talking and she cuts me short and asks me if me mother could come to the phone. I be confused and said, why do you need me Mam and she said, just put her on. Well, I look around and no me Mam is not here, so I sit there gobsmacked until Tonya comes in and asks me what is the matter with me. I tell her and she takes the phone and makes the same mistake I did with the Ms. McGinty and is corrected, and on she goes explaining in opposite order the problem with our postman.
I be sitting there wondering why the woman couldn't understand me, why she must have thought I was an adolescent when suddenly I see Tonya's brow knit and I know trouble be a brewin'.
"What you mean you can't understand a word I say?" She demands into the phone and then silence as she listens.
"I am from New Jersey." Pause,. "New Jersey is NOT a suburb of New York thank you very much." Pause. "I said the man does not do his job. He can't deliver mail to save himself." Pause, pause, long pause. "I beg your pardon? I am not foreign. No, I said I was from New Jersey," Pause. "Yes that is right, no it isn't Jahsey, it is JERsee." Pause Again. "I don't care how many years he's been delivering the mail, he hasn't got the hang of it. You don't deliver a package to the house, then put the rest of the letters down in the mailbox." Pause. "Well, that's just wonderful. What?" Pause. "The driveway is almost 50 yards long, and if there is anything like snow on it, he won't attempt it even if it is ploughed! Half the time we don't know if we have mail because he doesn't bother to leave us any notification." Pause, long pause. "Look, he left me this unreadable slip telling me to go to the post office to pick up a package that he could have delivered because my friend was right at the mailbox at the time." Very long pause, eyebrows descending in a fierce scowl. "When the snow melts? When the snow melts? That could take until March." Pause. "April? It melts in April?" Pause. "Whatever! YOU people are holding hostage my sister's mail to me! It will be brown by APRIL. Dead, very dead unless you are going to water it." Pause. "Of course, you don't do that, how stupid of me." Super long pause. "He doesn't bring the letters up with the package in case no one's at home? You are telling me that is standard practice? Postal regulations? Well!" Slam went the phone. I stayed quiet.
Tonya grabbed the phone again and banged it on the cradle several times. Then she banged the chair in under the table with a good swift kick and ended this tirade with her hands on her hips (never a good sign). I raised an eyebrow in her direction. She sighed, "I'm going down there."
Uh oh. I jumped up because in me mind I could see it all. Tonya ripping postal posters off the wall as she stamped around, throwing trays of stamps through the window, the destruction everywhere. I grab hold of her wrists and say, "I'll go."
What the hell am I thinking? I'll go? Holy cow Batman why did I volunteer? What do I care if she trashes the post office, what do I care if they send her away for destroying government property, well begorrah me, I do care! I'd be alone with no car, lots of snow and precious little else.
I get me into me boots, struggle with me coat as she is encouraging me, telling me just what to say, and helping me deck meself out for a twenty-mile hike to a post office where I think I know the location. Meanwhile, me mind is trying to reckon where I saw the post office. I could be gone for a very long time R. Linda. I could be lost in the frozen tundra for months. All I could hope was that the blue frigid sky stayed that way and grey snow-filled clouds did not descend upon me as I skied around New Boston looking for the post office! I am such an idiot.
Tonya nearly pushed me out the door and off I went to fetch the skis. I will slowly put them on thinking what a fool be I, but with little choice (because how manly would it be if I come knocking on the backdoor for her to let me in because I be wimping out), so I be about to start down the drive to the snow-covered road and nothingness but wintry expanse.
Later, much later probably,
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
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