(See the God of Mail?")
Neither sloth, nor housework, nor pain in my neck kept me from my appointed date with the post office this day. The god of mail made way. I mailed mail, I bought stamps, I checked my box. Oh, but did I ever buy stamps.
"Oh, it must be love!" sang Etta James.
I bought old, "I cannot tell a lie," because it's election day.
Please tell me you did not add this chick to the ballot as a write-in candidate. The only platform she has is a pair of platform shoes.
It's just a matter of time, because time is of the essence, and I'm making time to catch up on six months of backed up mail. I like this stamp.
I bought postage for postcards.
I bought one cent, two cents, three cents, four cents, five cents stamps. And I am willing to bet someone knows why there are no 6, 7, 8, or 9 cents stamps. Do tell.
These weren't in stock, but, oh, how I want them. I enjoy jigsaw puzzles as much as I enjoy crossword puzzles. Does anyone have these yet? If you do? Are they as lovely as I imagine? You can tell me. I won't be jealous if you do.
Neither rain, nor snow, nor Sandy? I have mail for Brooklyn. I have Wolfey mail. I'm sure mail is the last thing on some minds, so I'll just hold on to this a while longer. Until then: There are letters to write before I sleep.