Writer's Workshop: Paranoia

This weeks writer's workshop really got me thinking. I was very tempted to go with number 3: Describe a difficult moment that you survived. Man, I can think of loads. But, I decided that my blog is quite a downer, so I needed to choose something else. Something that doesnt make me sound so crazy. So I chose number 5: What are you paranoid about?

I am quite certain that the United States Postal Service is out to get me.

Stay with me.

When I first moved to Salem, I lived in an apartment building on a one-way road. (All roads around here are one-ways thanks to our fore father's taking city planning ideas from cows.) So, when you came down the street, mine was the first mailbox followed by the other three. Well, the lazy mailman would put everyone's mail in my mailbox. Requiring me to dole it out. It was okay the first 20 times, but then I was annoyed. So, I called and complained.


The postal worker first asked if my name was on the mailbox. I told him it was, along with the number. He then asked me about everyone else's boxes. Do they have their names on theirs? I don't know. Geez. And how is it my problem if they aren't? I assured him that I would check though and make sure the names are on the proper places. I am now the USPS police.

Thats when it started. I am pretty sure that they only delivered my mail occasionally. And more than once, I found my mail days later in places that my mail should not be. Inside doors that we dont use, inside other people's doors, on the grass.

Then I moved to Beverly. I thought I had left the Salem Post Office nonsense behind me. Although I cannot remember any specific instances, I am sure that there was a bit of fishy business there too. I only lived there briefly, then I moved back to Salem.

I know my name is on a black list. They probably have this bulletin board posted with everyone's names who have called to complain. And their addresses, most importantly, their addresses.

Still with me?

When I moved, as I do whenever I move, I filled out the change of address form weeks in advance. I do not want to miss a single piece of junk mail. For the first month that I lived here, I only got mail once in a while. Like two pieces a week. Just enough that I knew that they had indeed changed my address (they had those silly yellow stickers on them), but definately not as much as I should have been getting.

Allow me explain. At this point in my life I was getting alot of mail. I owed alot of people alot of money, so they sent me many nasty letters. Although, I wasn't particularly fond of these letters, I don't want the USPS to keep them from me.

Soon enough I got mail more regularly. I think they waited until my breaking point then decided enough was enough. They would just give me my mail.

Remember the whole put-all-the-mail-in-my-mailbox stunt they had pulled before? They did it again!! Now the arrangement makes this paranoia more real. There are four mailboxes next to the door. Two on the top and two on the bottom. Everyone's names and apartment numbers are clearly labeled. Mine is on the top right. Why would they put everyone's mail in my box?? Either they think that I would make an excellent mail lady or they hate me. I am betting on option 2.

Finally, my last piece of evidence is this: They do not deliver my mail on Saturdays. Everyone else gets mail! And - no - it couldn't be that I don't get mail on Saturdays. What would be the odds that all my mail just happens to fall on a weekday?

I lied. One more piece of evidence: I get the worst mail on Friday evenings, when there is nothing that I can do about it until Monday morning. Okay, so I have no idea how they could possibly figure out which pieces of mail would fit this category, but at this point I rule nothing out.

You agree, right?? You think the USPS is out to get me, too, right? It's big brother trying to keep high intrest rate credit card offers from me. Bastards.