Monday, July 26, 2010

It's a conspiracy.

I am convinced the following 3 men are conspiring to ruin my life:

1. The mailman. I think that the fellow that delivers the mail to my office everyday is Newman reincarnated. He stores up mail on the days he doesn't feel like delivering, and then ~BAM~ one day he brings me four lockers full. The days that I only have one locker full of mail, he chooses the very bottom locker(which lies flush with the floor) to put our mail in. I literally have to lay on the dirty 1st floor mail room floor and scoop out the junk mail that will end up being thrown away by its recipients. Even my overwhelmingly pregnant belly never deterred this postal worker from choosing the least convenient spot. I know that nobody cares about my disgust for mail and those who deliver it, so I won't dwell on it. But you should know that today, within my pile of junk mail, Newman left me a dirty Band-aid. 

2. The UPS man. I've seen the same UPS driver three times a day for the past 3 3/4 years. I would dare to say that I know him. I've heard all the stories, literally all of them...several times...even the ones I would never want to hear. Anyhoo--every morning for probably a year or so, he has made a phone call from my office phone. I never thought much about it...until today. I'm really quite sure that I have become an "accessory to an affair." My phone has been a tool for extramarital communication. I'm going to need to purchases some rubbing alcohol and cleanse it of its filth.

3. Wallpapering man. There is a very nice little man wallpapering the office walls this week, very nice man. But he stares a lot. It's not that creepy kind of stare, it's more like a dumb kind of stare. I know that he means no harm, but it still gives me the willies. There was a conversation going on at the front desk this afternoon; wallpaper man was standing on his little scaffolding, laid his scraper and rag down, and proceeded to directly stare at the conversation participants. They didn't notice. Only I noticed. Then he noticed that I noticed. And it was awkward. Oh, and the three walls he chose to cover today are the the 3 walls that attach to my office. Since he was on the opposite side of the wall from me, I endured 8 hours of what sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Shoot me.

If these three men formed a club, I think it would be called IHOP (I Hate Orange-haired People).

Until tomorrow.
~Heather

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

hahahhahaaha....so did you hear "dirty talk" while your phone was being used for its naughtiness?

Sandie said...

I literally laughed out loud when i got to what IHOP stands for!!