finished with the med center for the day. walk home. the 1/4mile walk feels shorter with each trip.

walk up to my front-door to find a package. addressed to someone at least 3 blocks away. need to return to the post-office or deliver myself. the breadth of the mistake makes me laugh.

fiddle with my key. FUCK. this lock needs some lubrication. remember to pick up some WD-40 the next time we’re out. crack the seal; walk inside.

buster greets me and reminds me why he is the best part of my day. petting ^2.

flip through the mail. give buster a snack. repeat. there’s correspondence to be dealt with.

I NEED STAMPS…noted and logged for future reference.

grab the unfortunate package and head for the door. buster lets out a whimper. comfort the sorrowful. drive to the post office and am the nice guy in the parking lot who yields to others.

“yes we can. yes we can.”

wait in a relatively short line—for the post office that is. hand the older lady behind the counter the package left at my door. “misaddressed and erroneously delivered” i explain.

“i would have kept it if i were you“, she replies, “what if there’s something good in here?”

((awesome…at least your honest.))

“what does your bracelet mean?” the mischeivous-would-be-thief-behind-the-counter asks?

“it means I’m awesome” i reply while trying to channel the world’s most interesting man.

“so why are you awesome?”

“because I bought this bracelet.”

“that will be 88 cents for the two stamps.” i pay the tab and drop two envelopes in the box on my way out.

drive home. the trip seems shorter with each drive. maybe life is going by quicker. need to do something about slowing that down.

if you have any suggestions, i’m all ears.