To my neighbor:
Thank you for bringing my mail. It’s not the first time I’ve played musical mail with the neighbors. Our mail carrier is well known for her mistakes – as she drives down the street you can watch the folks in her wake checking their boxes and trading letters. I realize it’s a pain to get home from work and have the hassle of taking letters to someone else’s house. Sometimes I’m lazy and do it the next day.
When you said you’d had it “for a little while” I guessed a week, two weeks tops. It was right after the holidays, after all, and everyone is busy and stressed this time of the year. I thanked you and you left.
I looked it over: one piece of junk and an envelope from the state hospital. I tore into the envelope and found contact information for Mom’s social worker and doctor and an informational booklet on the hospital. It seemed odd to receive it now. So I looked at the postmark: November 17. November fucking 17th - 6 weeks ago, two days after Mom was transferred.
You had a packet for me, from a hospital (clearly shown on the return address) and you didn’t bother to bring it to me for 6 weeks? What the hell is wrong with you? I can only assume you had a family emergency or major illness. Thankfully it wasn’t paperwork requiring my signature in order for Mom to get treatment. Thankfully it wasn’t a request for financial information or else Mom would be charged the full monthly amount.
Are you so busy and important that you can’t take 5 minutes to do a small kindness? Hell, you could’ve just driven over and stuck it in my mailbox – no exiting the car required.