On Apr 6, 3:26 pm, Weirdwolf <h...@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> wrote:
> in a novel by Douglas Adams.
> I've just made the trek in driving snow to the postbox to post the same
> letter for the 3rd time. It's not addressed to me, it's not my address
on
> the front but I keep getting the bugger back by return of post.
> It now has three notes on it in increasingly vibrant colours and the
> street and number written several times in larger and larger letters.
> If I could get down there I would take the damn thing myself, it's on
the
> other side of the city. I've walked past it, I know the house, I could
tell
> you the colour of the door that holds the letterbox that it should be
in.
> All this geographical knowledge obviously stops me ever holding a
postion
> within the post office!
> The damn thing is the postal equivalent of a boomerang. I swear that if
I
> catch the sack weilding knuckle dragging monkey in a postal uniform at
my
> door with it on Tuesday I'm going to beat the bastard to death with it.
In
> years gone by I might have got up at the crack of dawn to catch him in
the
> act but now a cunning ambush only requires an inconvenient disturbance
of
> afternoon tea.
>
so you have the twin to our mailman. we get the wrong mail all the
time. the door to my mailbox is open most of the time and frequently
on the ground. he also won't deliver to the door if the ruby (our dog)
is out on the chain. i've called his superior more than once.
Penni
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