Good with words

Fear... distractions.... the efforts of a self-employed writer to pay the mortgage.... all that jazz.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Illegal Christmas cards

Know how I said about my compulsive post-opening disorder? Well, two extra Christmas cards arrived through the letterbox last week. "Mark F" and "Mike F" - no return address, nothing. Seeing as we didn't have many cards arrive yet, and I wanted to put some more on the fireplace, I figured I'd just open them. But it backfired. One had a Smiths £10 voucher inside. Well, what do I do? My conscience wouldn't let me spend it. Couldn't think how to return it without an address. Put it in the bin, and the buyer never gets it back. Suddenly realised, horribly, that next-door there is a real Mark (you know, as opposed to an Anna who pretends she is a Mark to get more Christmas cards).

So I quickly scrawled "Whoops! Sorry, opened without looking!" and sent husband to put the ripped-open card through their letterbox. Then cowered. Glad I sent him - they opened the door. Turns out it wasn't meant for that Mark, either. Now what? The criminal evidence was back in my hands. I couldn't spend it; so give it to someone whose conscience would let them spend it, right? Is that just as bad as spending it myself? I know! Nextdoor (as well as having a real Mark) have a baby. Spend it on him, I said firmly, because as everyone knows, babies can't go to hell.

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