I awoke today, looked out my bedroom window and saw a bird painting my curb-side mailbox. As to what paint he was using, I will leave that to your discretion. Most would frown upon his behavior, but I feel that the bird had a plan. The paint was not for me to find, but for a lazy mailman. You see, yesterday the mailman left a stack of mail in the box that was not mine. It was not even marked to come to my house. The person and address was across town. The only reason that I can come up with for this, is that my huse is at the end of the postmans route and that my mailbox became a depository for his mistakes. How the bird knew this, I have no clue. What I do know and what the mailman was to soon discover, is that god, karma, or whatever is wicked funny. I call it poetic justice. Until we next meet….mac
straightoutofmymind 