I admit I got a later start then what I would have liked, but that’s ok. My Friday night was awesome. Anyway, I got out of bed, brushed my teeth and got a glass of apple juice. My parents were sitting in the big chair in the living room together watching The Top 20 count down on the country station. Country music videos frequently piss me off for no reason at all. My dad asks me about a recent job lead I found, I tell him I have to mail it today. He tells me to do it priority mail. Hence, after I straighten up my room I make a trip to the post office.


I guess I didn’t think before I left the house. The post office closes at noon. It’s 11:05. It’s packed. The line is miles long at least, but I stand in the back, looking headlong into my next 45 minutes of scenery. And then I opened my eyes. In front of me is this guy, probably around 28 or 29. Maybe 30. (but talking about the age of 30 makes me feel like I’m getting old). He wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, he wasn’t mega-built, he didn’t look super rich, but he looked normal. He looked like the sort of guy I plan to end up with. I stood there thinking to myself, “who is this guy” “what’s his story” “what’s he mailing at the post office”? He has a package in his hands, his name is Shawn Combs. hm, like P-Diddy? He’s mailing something to Shannon Johnson. Maybe she’s his old friend from college? Maybe she’s his cousin. She certainly isn’t his girlfriend since I’ve already decided he is marrying me.


“Girls, lets go!” The shout echoes in the Post Office (I keep wanting to capitalize it). This man who looks like he belongs at a Star Wars convention walks over to the ropes creating the line we all stand in. I look forward to notice a little girl in stretch pants and a winter coat straddling the ropes, acting like she is riding a horse or something. That really bothers me. She shouldn’t be here. She should be in a zoo, along with all the other children of the world. She hops off her imaginary pony and rushes over to Daddy who looks like he might beam off the planet and back to the mother ship at any minute. She can’t really run, I think she has her shoes on the wrong feet. “Come on! Let’s go!” Another shout, this one much more maternal. I turn to see the mother. If you’ve ever seen Beauty and the Beast (the Disney version), try to visualize Ms.Potts. Yes, the talking tea kettle voiced by Angela Lansbury. Now if that tea pot woman had been chipped a little, not cleaned in years, had old tea stains and a few strands of yarn on top of it, then it would look just like the lady at the Post Office. She had a snout, I swear. Or, a spout I suppose. She was perfectly round. She was terrifying. I wanted to throw down my envelopes I was mailing and rush to my car. She waddled over by me and Shawn (my future husband). Behind us was a little shelf, I am guessing so you can assemble boxes or write addresses while your in line. She goes ahead of Shawn two people and cut back to the shelf. She wobbles downward, but she doesn’t fall (cause weebles don’t fall down, duh). “Let’s go Shelinda!” She pulls a little girl out from underneath the shelf. I hadn’t even seen her there. Where did this child come from? I looked up at Shawn who seemed just as baffled as I. Shelinda, which is a terrible name (really, stop reading and say it out loud a few times, it’s gross). She clearly has F.A.S or shaken baby syndrome, though my bet say she has both. He left eye wanders and she looks like her best friend would be a spider. She rushes out of the post office really fast, like she is afraid of the public or something. Probably a result of such a stupid name and such scary parents.


At this point I had seen enough. I had to write about this family. The post office on a Saturday morning is just crowded and uncomfortable anyway. I looked up at Shawn, he wasn’t paying attention, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. I had figured out by the signs hanging by the desk that if I got my envelopes in the mailbox by 2:00pm I’d be just as fast as priority mail, since tomorrow was Sunday and all. I got out of the huge line, which hadn’t moved at all and moved to the automated stamp machine. Much easier. Machines always do what you want them to do, and they don’t look like Ms.Potts or have F.A.S. I got my stamps, put my envelopes

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