Speaking My Mind

Sometimes it isn't always a good idea to say what you're thinking. Honesty is the best policy, I always say...but then again -

Recently, when I walked into the post office, I was nearly thrown into a gagging fit at the putrid smell that permeated the air. The confined building reeked of dog droppings - BIG dog droppings. So much so, that I actually walked around the corner looking for the offending pile, which I didn't find. As I was considering peering into the trash can to see if some brainless citizen thought it permissible to dispose of animal refuse in a public facility, the employee door opened and the (generally non-friendly) post-mistress appeared in the small hallway where I was collecting my magazines, solicitations, and as-usual ill-timed bills from our 3x5 mailbox. I asked her what the smell was, and she informed me that popcorn had been popped earlier in the day, to which I replied that it didn't smell like popcorn. When she asked me what it smelled like, I told her - dog poop. Of course, she blessed me with a funny look, which became even funnier (aka annoyed) when I questioned, "Did you actually EAT that popcorn?!?" She wasn't amused, but then again, neither was I.

It's hardly professional to be tossing noxious fumes masquerading as edible nutrition at innocent people attempting to retrieve the latest credit card offers, but that's our tax dollars at work.

Maybe they should offer a course to postal workers - "How Not to Burn Popcorn at Work 101" - sandwich that right in between "Cramming Too Much into the Mailboxes For Which We Charge Too Much 303" and "Fund Our Retirement by Over-Inflating the Price of a Stamp 505"

Around this same time, I saw an ice-cream truck man driving around our town, playing the usual irritate-the-heck-outta-the-parents music to attract the kids to his truck and charge them 3 times too much for a popsicle. This man was smoking. The man smoking did not sit well with me. A day or two later, he was on his merry way down our street, music blaring, cigarette in hand. I grabbed the hand sanitizer bottle and ran outside to get his attention. Once he stopped his vehicle, (assuming, most likely, he had a sure sale close by) I proceeded to offer him the bottle of GermX, with the stern, motherly, slightly bossy tone of voice telling him I would not permit my children to buy ice cream from a person who had a cigarette hanging from his mouth. It was gross, and he was setting a very poor example for his customers. He did not comprehend why I would not want his products. "Even though it's wrapped in plastic??" Ummmmmm......NO thank you. He wasn't amused, but then again, neither was I.

Maybe it's me...maybe I need to increase the dosage on my "don't bite other people's heads off" medication...maybe I should take a vacation...but by golly, use the intelligence quota God gave you SOMEtime before you die!! Those things don't roll-over to your next life, you know!