Going Postal

I need to quit getting the mail. If I just stopped faithfully going out there every day and opening up that frickin’ little dungeon of doom and gloom, I would be a much happier woman.

Today in the mail I had the following:

One knitting magazine (this was the bright spot)

One jury summons for the week of, YES WAY, 12/22 (oh, ack)

One bill for $190.76 for a ten minute doctor visit

No fewer than five desperate pleas for MONEY from assorted charities who are all “feeling the pinch” and who have clients who “need us now more than ever.”

The newspaper thinks it is going to be hitting me up for $20 a month every four weeks, which would make my local rag $260 a year, which is BWA HAHAHAHAHA, no, I don’t think so. (What are they smoking down there at the old pressroom?!)

Home owners insurance renewal forms. Meh.

Oh look. American Express has decided to lower our credit limit.

Notice from our business banking account informing us that, as new customers, they are going to be putting extra long holds on our deposited checks. Yeah, I knew that and all…but still. Is it National Poke Tama With A Stick Day today, and nobody told me? I mean, I would have dressed nicer if I’d only known…

Chase has a change in terms…lessee…soooooo, if I were to use their card and have a balance, I’d pay 20.9% interest on it? Memo to me: Tell Chase to go chase their own tails…ha ha ha…

And then! I get the COBRA notice. Nine hundred dollars a month.

Holy crap.

That’s it.

No more mail. I mean it! I am never going out to that stupid box again. It’s nothing but trouble, and I’m sick of it.

From this day forth…no more mail here in the Den.

I have spoken.

Hail Pharaoh.

{CLASH!}