Hi, I'm Anne, and I hate Apartment-sized Mailboxes
Background Noise: Ants Marching
Last Visited: morning rounds
Random Thought: when all the little ants are marching, do they all do it the same, really?
Mood: dancing out of my coma
I don't often make categorical, unequivocal, forever and always kind of statements, but here's one: I hate getting physical mail delivered to my apartment. Which is probably why i deliberatly have everything i must get in paper form (could we save the trees already?) sent to my office... or at least i try to. If it's important enough that i actually have to read it, you can send it to the place where i'm most likely to actually, you know, see it.
My grandmother (whom i love and who can send me whatever she wants to where ever she wants assuming i have the notice to actually track it down) tends to send stuff to whatever my current apartment is even when i and my mother beg her to send stuff to work. But like i said, she's immune from this discussion. Cards are fine too, well, more than fine, they are lovely and i appreciate all of them - please don't take offense to this post if you've sent me a card. Cards are pretty and small and don't take up too much space and always make me smile. But if you send me a card, try to let me know or i probably won't see it until weeks or months later.
'Cause here's the thing: those apartment mailboxes are always uber-tiny. Super small. They aren't built to hold, say, a magazine. Or a solicitous AOL DVD. Or everything big and tearable that qualifies as junk mail in the physical world. I HATE junk mail. Can't stand it. And i hate that i have no control over not getting it. Email? I have spam filters; granted they don't get everything, but all things are relative.
And i hate that after emptying a stuffed full mailbox and staggering the 100 or so feet to the recycling bins trying not to drop any of the oh-so-precious flyers and postcards and "to the homeowner at"s to toss the junk i only had one real piece of mail to take to my car. (Thanks Clem and Brian!). That's one real piece of mail in nearly two months. Yet I'm the bad person for not dilligently checking my mailbox for said junk daily; i'm the bad person for not reading said junk and throwing it out.
Honestly, the whole idea of getting mail at that place makes less than no sense to me. From my perspective it's just a giant waste of everyone's time. Really, sending mail to me at Blossom Hill is a waste of my time, the postman's time, my apartment manager's time, heck, even the jerks who send the junk to me it's a waste of their time and money.
Expression:
Last Visited: morning rounds
Random Thought: when all the little ants are marching, do they all do it the same, really?
Mood: dancing out of my coma
I don't often make categorical, unequivocal, forever and always kind of statements, but here's one: I hate getting physical mail delivered to my apartment. Which is probably why i deliberatly have everything i must get in paper form (could we save the trees already?) sent to my office... or at least i try to. If it's important enough that i actually have to read it, you can send it to the place where i'm most likely to actually, you know, see it.
My grandmother (whom i love and who can send me whatever she wants to where ever she wants assuming i have the notice to actually track it down) tends to send stuff to whatever my current apartment is even when i and my mother beg her to send stuff to work. But like i said, she's immune from this discussion. Cards are fine too, well, more than fine, they are lovely and i appreciate all of them - please don't take offense to this post if you've sent me a card. Cards are pretty and small and don't take up too much space and always make me smile. But if you send me a card, try to let me know or i probably won't see it until weeks or months later.
'Cause here's the thing: those apartment mailboxes are always uber-tiny. Super small. They aren't built to hold, say, a magazine. Or a solicitous AOL DVD. Or everything big and tearable that qualifies as junk mail in the physical world. I HATE junk mail. Can't stand it. And i hate that i have no control over not getting it. Email? I have spam filters; granted they don't get everything, but all things are relative.
And i hate that after emptying a stuffed full mailbox and staggering the 100 or so feet to the recycling bins trying not to drop any of the oh-so-precious flyers and postcards and "to the homeowner at"s to toss the junk i only had one real piece of mail to take to my car. (Thanks Clem and Brian!). That's one real piece of mail in nearly two months. Yet I'm the bad person for not dilligently checking my mailbox for said junk daily; i'm the bad person for not reading said junk and throwing it out.
Honestly, the whole idea of getting mail at that place makes less than no sense to me. From my perspective it's just a giant waste of everyone's time. Really, sending mail to me at Blossom Hill is a waste of my time, the postman's time, my apartment manager's time, heck, even the jerks who send the junk to me it's a waste of their time and money.
Expression:
posted by Jane at 10:43:00 AM
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