First-class lazy
When I was younger, and I mean when I was living alone in my mid-20s, I always wondered how people didn't pounce on the mailbox the minute they got home. Who knew what was in store for you? Sure, bills, but there could be other cool stuff too. And I wanted to know right that second what was in the mailbox. And this was before the advent of Amazon and eBay meant packages were arriving almost daily.
But now I am a crotchety old lady who apparently can't be bothered with the mailbox. I can see it from the living room window. I only have to walk down the five porch steps to reach it. But I can't be bothered to go out and collect the envelopes.
For crying out loud, I see the mail lady deliver it most days and I just think, "Huh. The mail's here."
Every day when Josh comes home, he asks if I got the mail. The answer, every day, is, "Oh, no. Sorry. Can you grab it?"
If I do manage to somehow grab the mail, I just throw it on the edge of the island in the kitchen and wait for Josh to go through it. It's not like I don't know my credit card balance, especially since Josh is so helpful and monitors my spending online daily and will notify me immediately when I am 3 cents over my budget, so why even open the statements? I also don't need anymore Target catalogues, you know, since I am there once a week. And don't get me started on the real estate postcards we get. Why no, I did NOT know that you, random Realtor I don't know, sold a condo down the street last month. For $500,000? You don't say! That's admirable in this housing market. Great work.
Amazon delivers packages and I don't even open them, either. I know what's in them because I ordered them, or they're some stupid computer crap for Josh, so what's the point? I just leave them stacked on the counter. This is the ultimate laziness, folks. Not to mention, what if someone actually sent me a gift and I didn't know it because I didn't open the box? Unfortunately, I just can't be bothered.
Hopefully with the holiday season upon us, I will be so curious to see everyone's unintentionally hilarious Christmas card photos and pages-long updates on what an 8-year-old saw at the museum on a day trip back in June and what good old third-cousin-twice-removed-and thrice-divorced-and-remarried George is doing in his new job at the DMV, that I won't be able to contain the urge to run out the door and accost the mail lady when she arrives each day.
Or, I'll just let it pile up on the counter until the mountain threatens to topple us all and then I might get around to opening it.
But now I am a crotchety old lady who apparently can't be bothered with the mailbox. I can see it from the living room window. I only have to walk down the five porch steps to reach it. But I can't be bothered to go out and collect the envelopes.
For crying out loud, I see the mail lady deliver it most days and I just think, "Huh. The mail's here."
Every day when Josh comes home, he asks if I got the mail. The answer, every day, is, "Oh, no. Sorry. Can you grab it?"
If I do manage to somehow grab the mail, I just throw it on the edge of the island in the kitchen and wait for Josh to go through it. It's not like I don't know my credit card balance, especially since Josh is so helpful and monitors my spending online daily and will notify me immediately when I am 3 cents over my budget, so why even open the statements? I also don't need anymore Target catalogues, you know, since I am there once a week. And don't get me started on the real estate postcards we get. Why no, I did NOT know that you, random Realtor I don't know, sold a condo down the street last month. For $500,000? You don't say! That's admirable in this housing market. Great work.
Amazon delivers packages and I don't even open them, either. I know what's in them because I ordered them, or they're some stupid computer crap for Josh, so what's the point? I just leave them stacked on the counter. This is the ultimate laziness, folks. Not to mention, what if someone actually sent me a gift and I didn't know it because I didn't open the box? Unfortunately, I just can't be bothered.
Hopefully with the holiday season upon us, I will be so curious to see everyone's unintentionally hilarious Christmas card photos and pages-long updates on what an 8-year-old saw at the museum on a day trip back in June and what good old third-cousin-twice-removed-and thrice-divorced-and-remarried George is doing in his new job at the DMV, that I won't be able to contain the urge to run out the door and accost the mail lady when she arrives each day.
Or, I'll just let it pile up on the counter until the mountain threatens to topple us all and then I might get around to opening it.
Labels: It's all about me
posted by Amy at
1:21 PM
5 Comments:
I nag Ben to get the mail everyday because I? Cannot be bothered.
in our old house teh mail was two blocks away and I checked it pretty much daily - bceause I drove right past it on the way out of the neighborhood. now the mail is direectly in front of our house and I never get it. EVER. Seriously. Last week we had to pick up our mail at the post office because our box was so full they stopped delivering. naturlly I sent my husband.
oh. And there is a box on my kitchen counter right now, unopened. And three more in the garage.
at least you are pregnant.
You only go to Target once a week? That's restraint right there.
I am the same way. We have piles of mail in various degrees of openedness (so not a word) lying around the house in about 3 different places.
In LA, I would get the mail once a week b/c our mailbox was big enough to let it pile up. Now our mailbox is so small that I have to get it daily--it's really cramping my style.
Yep... My hubby has mail duty... Always... Not just when I am pregnant.
LOL at Josh & your budget... Luckily, my hubby would be more likely to blow it first, disabling him from commenting on my expenditures. :)
Merry Christmas!
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home