My dear son has fallen into some addictive habits.
Who can resist the bright joyful holiday catalogs that bring happiness to the coldest winter day. Or a greeting card full of smiling familiar faces to display on the mantle.
What if the 'box man' has left a package for under the tree.
Jiminy Christmas, I am feeling the urge again!
My mailbox has never been so empty- in a good way.
I am that lady who never checks her mail.
It is usually overflowing, shoved in so tight I can barely claw it out with a pick and a bucket.
My rule of thumb is if the water isn't shut off,
All is well.
It wasn't until I noticed my sister almost ritually checking her mail,
I yelled out my window to her,
"You are a slave to your mailbox!"
She said something that I never considered, until then...
"This is what NORMAL people do!"
Speaking of normal,
Mr. Patterson just walked into our room with a mouth full of mixed nuts, drinking Coca-Cola from my good stemware, listening to My Chick Bad on his IPad.
Excuse me while I take him back to his mother.
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