The mail really stacked up while we were in Colorado; and, as I sift through it, I’m struck with the variety of catalogs, brochures, bills, and miscellany with either Earl’s or my name attached.
Of course the holiday catalogs come with the season, but I also got a notice from Uncle Sam about how to order my tax forms for 2005. Pulleeze! I’ll deal with Uncle after the first of the year. A large booklet describing the new Medicare prescription drug coverage plan looked just as official as the tax forms, only about three times as thick. I’m not eligible for Medicare yet, but Earl is; and I suspect he’ll hope I’ll read the fine print so he doesn’t have to.
A box of photos that I’d sent a distant cousin, in the hope of never seeing them again, came back. It wasn’t a case of non-delivery; oh no, the cousin labeled them all and returned them. Then there were some postcard-sized promotions, urging me to shop at local stores for an added fifteen percent off on the day after Thanksgiving. Except I was a thousand miles away.
We hadn’t stopped our newspaper, since it’s somewhat of a hassle unless you’re going to be out of town a while, so the previous week’s hot stories – which had probably cooled – waited. And waited. And waited. Since I hardly keep up with the reading material that comes in the door, I make it a policy that if I don’t read the newspaper on the day it arrives, then I move on to the next day. Earl, however, is prone to saving papers indefinitely in the firm belief that most of the paper is topical and not any less relevant a month from now. I suppose the same can be said about the missives from Uncle Sam too.
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