I have a customer who moved into a house on my route that didn't have a mailbox. When mail started arriving for them, I knocked on the door and said, "Hi, Mr. -----, welcome to the neighborhood, put up a mailbox." He told me they didn't get mail at that address. I pointed out that we'd never met, but I knew his name, so obviously someone didn't get the message about the mail. I told him that if he didn't want to get mail there, he should turn in a change of address form to the address where he did want to get mail so I could forward it to him. He told me again that they didn't get mail at that address. Since then, I've just been killing their mail. I'm not going to care more about it than they do.
I've started reading Apathy, again, a book about a man who doesn't care about anything. There was a hiatus because someone had unplugged my bedside lamp. The reviewers aren't wild about it. They're like the boys in the Sultans of Swing that don't like the band because, "It's not what they call rock and roll." Apparently it's not what they call absurd.
Speaking of books, David Sedaris has gotten some flack recently because sometimes when he's telling a story, he exaggerates. I think that happens sometimes. For all we know, maybe the cyclops was just squinting. Do you think it means anything that this is the second time I've mentioned the cyclops in the last couple of years? Me neither.