Okay, Patty. Okay, Henderica. Here's the mail I've been wondering about. The mystery of it it not arriving has kept me scratching my head. I kept asking myself, "Why haven't Henderica responded?" And I wondered, "Is Patty ticked off at me or something?" Well, now I know. Mystery solved.
I'd just finished my overdue postcards for Postcrossing. Was looking for all that postage I bought recently. Spied color from the corner of my eye. Three envelopes peeked at me from just under the head of my bed. Guess what. I should look under the bed more often.
I discovered a bundle of mail. Mail meant to be posted. Mail meant to be answered. I blame Feist. She thinks she owns the house, and because she's the youngest, and doesn't obey half the rules. She tends to act like a bull in a china closet when she sneaks into my room. She drinks from my glass. She eats from my popcorn bowl, if I'm not there to protect it. She's eaten a handful of my precious bird feathers. So I have every right to blame her for the missing mail. It's a good thing I scan 99% of all outgoing mail. It helps if I need proof-or-penning.
Now, if only I could find the missing postcards, as well!