My new drug-of-choice is flat-rate mail boxes. Every time I send off a box I say adios to a weighty decision; to keep or not to keep. Whether 'tis nobler to chuck the stuff in the dumpster, or let the son do the chucking, that is the question.The ease of picking up boxes at the post office, stuffing them with my sons' high school year books, paying postage and printing shipping labels online is a real rush. I crank the labels through my prehistoric Xyron 510 machine to add adhesive backing. Getting email updates of shipping progress makes me feel like Mission Control.
Bubble-wrapped I am not. Things were bound to get weird when I met the Planter's Nut-mobile on Coit at 635 Saturday. My camera was in my purse on the backseat, so I can't prove it, but this was no UFO.
Today we had free-ranging chickens in the preschool classroom. The poultry should have stayed in their box under the heat lamp, but they had an itch to pop out the top. Meanwhile students were running around like chickens with their heads --- --- all the time I was trying to supervise little kids decorating Mother's Day birdfeeders with YIKES permanent markers.
The class rabbit wanted to make friends with the chickens, or at least check them out. When he was sent back to his cage he started acting like an elephant with a long trunk. He got his nose stuck way down in a tp tube, and auditioned for Barnum & Bailey.
Oh, what about Lane? He could not find any cucumbers at the market even for ready money.
Lane the butler or valet comes to mind because the apartment complex has a sort of silly service called "Valet Trash". I suppose if one is frail and elderly this is a good thing. Five evenings a week the garbage valet collects trash bags outside everyone's front doors. The valet does not handle recyclables. Not even for ready money.
© 2014 Nancy L. Ruder