Jul 072020
 

I know you have all been frantically hitting refresh on my blog, waiting with bated breath for an update on my lost package of Korean cassettes. Well, here’s what’s what;

When I told Henry what the USPS dude (BRANDON) told me on the phone, about how it was allegedly scanned in at the 3100 block of my street (I’m on the 3000 block, come n’ get me), Henry was like, “I bet it was delivered to 31xx because they’ve gotten our stuff before!!” and I was like, “THAT MAKES SENSE, I’LL SEND CHOOCH DOWN THERE” because that’s what children are for, right? I think that’s what my manual said, anyway. Page 87: Send children as go-fers to strange houses in exchange for packages?

Chooch grudgingly did as he was told (he was going to walk down there in just socks but like a TRUE MUM I was like, “Boy, putcher shoes on lest you step on some needles or whatnot, shit son use your fucking noggin, this is Brookline not Green Gables. I didn’t send you to a mediocre city school for nuthin’!”

He was gone for a reasonable amount of time, just long enough for me  to forget about him, but not long enough for Henry to be like, “Wait….where’d what’s-his-face go?”

I saw him running up the sidewalk, empty-handed, so I already knew I was going to hate what he had to say.

“No one was home,” he panted. “In fact, I don’t even think anyone lives in that house. It’s that weird yellow one.” And then he named the people who used to live there, like I actually know anyone who lives on this street. Bitch, please.

The next day, Henry and I were walking home from GETTING BEER wow we’re trash, when I walked past the yellow house, stopped, and marched right up to the front door. “If no one lives here, can’t I just open the mail box?” I yelled back to Henry, who was waiting on the sidewalk, not wanting to get involved. I was mindlessly knocking on the door at the same time, not expecting anyone to answer, and was just about to lift open the top of the mailbox when Henry nodded toward the side of the house, WHERE SOME MAN HAD EMERGED FROM THE SIDE DOOR.

I walked down the front steps and met him in the yard. He was looking back and forth between Henry and me, with A WILD LOOK IN HIS EYES. Like he KNEW EXACTLY WHY WE WERE THERE. Like he was HOPING I COULDN’T HEAR THE STOLEN TOTO PLAYING FROM HIS DUSTY RADIO SHACK TAPE DECK.

“Hi, you didn’t happen to receive a package meant for xxxx last week, did you?” I asked in my polite SWEETIE PIE voice. That voice usually works, but not on this GUILTY MAN. THIS GUILTY MAN just looked at me through a glaze of SUSPICION and grunted what I suppose was, “No.”

I thanked him and then Henry and I continued along with our BAGS OF BEER like regular ol’ BROOKLINE FOLK, god, I hate that we were actually carrying beer down the street on the 4th of July like fucking trash.

“He was lying,” I hissed to Henry. “That man has my fucking tapes, Henry. I KNOW IT.” Henry was just like, “Whatever, I can’t wait to crack open one of these sissy beers that I let you pick out.”

Later that night, I checked my email right before going to bed. I had an email from the USPS, with the subject “Your USPS Service Request Has Been Resolved!”

OMG DID THEY FIND MY PACKAGE?! I cried, nearly catapulting Henry off his side of the bed.

WELL, THAT’S A NEGATIVE.

I’m so glad that my lost Korean VINTAGE cassettes are going to help them “work toward improvements.”

They sent me a survey yesterday and I was like, “Oh buddy, I will GLADLY fill out this fucker.” In the additional comment section, I made sure to point out that perhaps if my mail carrier wasn’t constantly talking on the phone every time he delivers our mail, perhaps these mistakes wouldn’t happen. Asshole!

I had to give my work-group the sad update this week because they’ve been ON EDGE about this ever since I pulled them into the fold last Thursday. Lauren said she’s sure that BRANDON and SUSPICIOUS GUY probably split the bounty, and Nate said, “I guess ‘free shipping’ doesn’t mean ‘to your house.'” And Glenn was just shocked that there were other bidders in this auction.

Hearing Duran Duran, Pat Benatar, and Toto on the radio is going to have new meaning to me, now. Sigh. (I didn’t include Saga in this because I don’t know who Saga is and I don’t think I have ever even heard them on the radio, which prompted Henry to yell, “OH I’M SURE YOU HAVE” and then he played me a bunch of their songs and I can promise you that my final answer is still no.)

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