I have more to report about my date last night, but I have to clean the kitchen and wrap some presents, and prepare this family for the arrival of Santa right now. So... I thought I'd tell you guys one more thing about me.
When the mailman pushes the mail through the slot I go running like I'm trying to save a falling baby. My ears are tuned to the sound of his roll up door going down like a dog waiting for his master. We get paid through residual checks that come in the mail. Every day is like the lottery. Sometimes we come up with nothing, and somedays it's life altering.
I can be mid-sob, or listening to someone pour their hearts out, and when I hear the squeak of the mail slot, I'm off like a rocket.
On the days when there are no checks I feel like I've been robbed of a little piece of happiness. My shoulders slump, and I grumble, "what a gyp".