The rainalypse, an East Coast earthquake, Hurricane Irene, thunderstorms, floods, tsunamis, snow, melting ice caps (that's still happening, right?).
I try not to dwell on these kinds of things, but...really?
So, in the midst of the quaking earth earlier this afternoon, I completely forgot to grab the mail before I ran off on my way to work, worrying about aftershocks and whether or not the pool would actually be open. I mean, shit went down at 1:51 and the mail-lady HAD JUST SHOWN UP. Shows the shoddy work we've had in this neck of the woods recently, since our other mailwoman left us for, I can only hope, greener pastures somewhere in the land of the United States Postal Service.
Anyhow, the pool was open and I worked my full shift. I got home around eight, waited for the Chinese take-out, nommed, watched some more of Bela Talbot's Greatest Hits from Supernatural Season Three, and then, when my mom finally got home near nine, I realized, "Hey! No one got the mail today!" I had checked the box on my way out, so I knew there was something in there. I ran out and grabbed it, flipping through investment nonsense and junk mail and catalogues and flyers. And then, something with my name on it? Something...something from clear across the country?
Thank you for your letter, Dom; it made my night. And I'll be writing back soon, with my European address! I'll send postcards! :]
I've just been listening to him a lot lately. And, just, I mean...GAH. I could not pick a single artist to better represent my homeland - not just Long Island, but all of New York State, for sure. I'm still on my Mumford kick, but Billy has been sneaking in there every once in awhile, and I just can't turn him away.
Is that why he's been married so many times? (Oooh, BURN!) <-- I don't mean it, Mr. Joel! Please don't hate me!