How Mail on Sundays Causes Increased Therapy

I like leaving my Saturday mail for Sunday. That way, when my neighbors see me out at the mailbox, they’ll question their very way of life. If I’m lucky, they’ll question their own sanity, too, or at least double-check their calendars. Once, the old man who lives across the street hobbled up to me, peered deeply into my eyes, and walked back to his house. I’m not sure if that had anything to do with the mail.

I promise I’m not a mean, sadistic person. I just like to have fun at other people’s expense. And I make sure to reward them for their suffering. Sometimes I put things in their mailboxes, just to make them happy about mail on Sundays. This also has the pleasant side-effect of their paying my bills and recycling my catalogues. So it’s a win-win.

Last Saturday, I got an especially large amount of mail. Greeting cards from almost everyone I know filled my mailbox. It was the day after Arbor Day, so it only made sense that people would be sending out millions of cards. I took the results of having such a wide network of friends – four cards in total – back to my house to read them. Then I realized what I had done. I had blown my cover. I couldn’t go back to the mailbox and replace the cards. Then everyone would know how mail appears there every Sunday. So I did the only logical thing and invented a teleportation device. It failed miserably, and I took the burnt shards of my friends’ greetings, buried them in the backyard, and took a brief nap on the living room floor. That Sunday, I walked down to the mailbox with several pieces of paper stuffed in my parka, and deftly “removed” them from the mailbox. I don’t think anyone noticed, but there were several people wondering why someone would wear a parka in August.

It’s thrilling for me, too, to get mail on Sundays. Ever since the Internet stopped delivering e-mail from 11:59pm on Saturday to 12:00am on Monday, my Sundays have been rather boring. So I have fun the old-fashioned way and make people question the motives of the postal service. This whole thing has the added benefit of making me appear more popular amongst my neighbors. Clearly, someone must love me to send so much mail and on such a strange day. But I’m just happy I can brighten someone’s day by driving people insane.

Until next time, this is Xavier Yes. Stay classical. I’m going to go brighten my day.


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