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what? how? It's occurred to me that I might have a fun story, about my online purchases getting hung up and delivered later than the tracking system says it is going to arrive, more frequently of late, at the local post office. And at the same time the postmistress at the local post office seems to be growing unnervingly perturbed with me and my packages. Due to this attitude having arisen in the usually perky and sweet natured post mistress, I've grown uncomfortable with ordering any more dildos online and getting them shipped to my local post office.Too bad, I was just getting better acquainted and taking a liking to the idea of buying really big ones. My local post office staff, though I can't helping feeling like it is specifically post mistress' design, has taken to holding my packages behind the counter, rather than performing the more common depositing of them in a large package lock box, with the key to the lock box deposited into my p.o. box. So, instead of my being able to go and collect my online purchase, without having to interact with post office staff, I get a note in my p.o. box, indicating I have to go to the post office customer service counter which is a ten foot counter at which there are all of three kiosks, at varying times populated by just one, or two and sometimes three post office staff persons. So, the note in my p.o. box indicates that I have to meet with a staff person, one of whom is usually post mistress herself, to collect my package. Once, I got to the counter with one of the other staff persons, but post mistress got between her staff person, with my package, and the counter, and me on the other side of the counter. I was looking forward to taking the hand off and bolting spiritedly. She took my package into her arms. She is not tall, and she is stout, and buxom. With a terse and disconcerted frown and furrowed brow, she humped my package over to her kiosk, She gave my package a slight shake, as some people do with gift wrapped packages, like at christmas. She then peered at me persnicketedly , and asked ,,, I grew nervous she was about to ask me what it was in the possibly seen to be a conspicuously plain unmarked box, but she asked me simply, did I know how much my "item" weighed. I told her I did not know, trying to play cool, aloof, and incurious, even while dying to get my hands on the box and the "item" in the box out of the box, and see it and feel it and fondle it and feel myself responding to it. But in my wish to look and seem like I had little of any emotional investment in whatever was in the box, and yet with my growing nervous with her interest in the plain brown package, I asked her why that might be an issue. She stated that the post office had a weight limit set on packages shipped. I returned to pretending to be detached. She weighed my box, and muttered that it came in under the cut off weight. She approached me to hand over my box, with a last pensive leering deep and piercing into my eyes, the kind I'd like to get from a woman who I suspect is about to order me to get naked because she's ready to fuck me good and hard and heavy, but I didn't have any idea that post mistress was really thinking anything like this, so I simply accepted her simply handing off to me the box, and with continued feigned nonchalance I departed with a hoped to continue to seem unremarkable vibe So what else? How do I feel? I mean how do I feel today? How do I feel right now? Am I not going to answer the question? Am I going to continue to seek to rephrase to clarify for myself what question I really ought to be asking? I'm feeling. ... I feel alright. Alright is not an emotion. I'm okay. Again, more of a statistic. I feel well. I note a laziness, which I feel some sadness for. I wish I had something amazing to look forward to. What kind of emotion does one feel with that? Before getting carried away wishing, check oneself for well being. I am. Do I have to? I get so angry, always having to be careful. Disallow myself a tantrum. Consider the pleasure of achieving optimum comfort, being careful. Stop. Sit. Do nothing. I have the time available to sit and be peaceful, quite, and still. Soon, I will be up, because Ryan will want me to go to San Rafael, to drop money off to him. Soon, I will get carried away wanting to be somewhere, doing something, big. But I really don't have anything to go to do. I have too much stuff in this home I reside in, alone. I have more stuff than I need. Now I'm feeling a large unhappiness. I don't want to toil at chore. I want to live like annette funicello, or gidget, ... maybe I should find some glamorous man to model after. But whatever. David Lee Roth. Who, really parties? David Lee Roth probably really parties, and has really partied. But, what, really, is a party? Maybe the postmistress would know. |
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No one really "knows". We just have to adjust to what comes of life. I wish you good fortune, and a pleasant life.
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