noelani

I go out to get the mail yeserday and stuck to our door is one of those notices saying that the mailman tried to deliver a package, but you weren't there blahbattidy blah blah. So I look at who it was sent to, and it's me. I look at the sender and it says it's the IRS, and under the type of parcel section there's a check next to letter.

Panic mode.

Why would the IRS send me an insured letter. Can't be good right? So I'm put in a worried mood the rest of the night.

This morning I watch the clock, waiting for it to say 11:30 so I can go and pick up whatever this letter is that's waiting for me.

Clock strikes, and I head over. I give the attendant my orange slip of death, and wait anxiously for him to return. He returns in about 3 minutes, a long 3 minutes mind you, carrying a... dun dun dun.... box.

???

Turns out it's a corset that I ordered. A really fucking cute one at that. All leather and buckles galore. Anyhow...

I take the box, and start to walk out the door, thinking oh IRS must stand for something in postoffice lingo, but then I remember that it was checked letter specifically. So I turn around and ask the attendant if he's sure that's all that's there for me because it was checked letter and supposed to be from the IRS. He says nope, that's it, and that he double checked because it said that.

I've come to the conclusion that my mailman has a very cruel sense of humour. I'll leave him extra special cookies this year for a christmas bonus.

Anyhow, I'm relieved that I don't have any trouble with the IRS.

In other news: Southbound today.

Kisses