Some letters, like stories, write themselves.
I have been thinking about items that I could submit to Unsent Letters. I saw the link last week when I dropped in for my daily visit at Cathy C.'s Hall of Fame.
The first thought that came to mind was my ongoing battle with home delivery services such as Unqualified People Shipping. My other blog, the one what brung me here, chronicles the abuse they've heaped upon me over the past six years. With photos! That's not the sole slant of that blog, of course, just a small selection of my rantings and ravings.
The next object of my derision worthy of an unsent letter is The Butcher of Seville. I would absolutely love to not-share my feelings with her concerning the recent pruning she inflicted on my noggin-hedge. But today, oh...today has given me a whole new reason for writing. Trips to Walmart often do that.
I don't want to dehydrate myself here, let my creative juices leak out before I write that savory, unsent letter. But let's just say that I should never find, upon loading my bags into the back of my dust-covered SUV, the following strange bagfellows:
1-Four $0.88 Banquet TV Dinners on top of $5.85 worth of green seedless grapes on top of a bag of shredded lettuce.
2-Two large cans of Hunts Spaghetti Sauce With Meat, plus one can of Great Value Blackeyed Peas, plus one can of Macaroni and Beef on top of a box of Great Value Whole Wheat Spaghetti, on top of a net bag of vine-ripened cherry tomatoes.
3-A large can of Deluxe Mixed Nuts and one can of Great Value Blackeyed Peas on top of a bunch of bananas.
In addition, I should not have had to give up my dream of buying two boxes of Great Value Whole Wheat Spaghetti, just because the checker knocked open the end of the box while scanning, so it dumped out in the bag, at which time she picked up more off the floor and said, "Well...I guess I'll just set this aside..." You're darn tootin', girlie, because I am NOT going to pay for and take home to feed my family loose spaghetti noodles that you've touched with your sweaty hands. And since I waited in line for fifteen minutes behind one other customer, I am not sending The Pony back to that aisle for another, just so you don't have to punch one key and subtract it from my total. But in retrospect, I should have, because the one box that made it home unopened was broken in half from being bagged under the canned goods.
It's not rocket science, bagging groceries. I even group my items together on the conveyor the way I would like them bagged. Boxes with other boxes, cold items, cans, produce, squishies, bread. She deliberately varied from my bagging blueprint to inflict that damage. But I didn't complain. Because jobs are hard to come by these days. I'll do my part to help the economy by eating damaged food. But not floor food.
I'm getting all worked up again. Time to write that letter that I'm never meaning to send.