Picky-picky-picky

Joe at Attaboy, in an imaginary conversation with the person who delivers his daily newspaper, asks:

[D]o you think there’s a chance you can get the newspaper in the driveway rather then the wet, soggy grass?

Joe obviously lives in one of those upscale neighborhoods to which only the best (of the best!) paper deliverers are assigned. His not only tosses the paper IN his yard, (s)he does so every day.

Me? I’m out here in the boonies so I’m not as picky. I just want my paper tossed over the 250 feet of fence out front, somewhere. Anywhere will do so long as it’s IN the yard. I’ll find it!

It’s not hard to figure out which house has been making this request for years, since we’re the only house on this side of the road for a good half-mile. But does it happen? No.

Instead the paper is flung so that it ends up outside the fence. Now, this might not be too bad except as I said, we’re out in the boonies and the city has 7 or 8 foot of right-of-way between my fence and the road and since there are numerous rural-route mailboxes lined up next to my driveway, people are driving up and either picking up or putting their mail in the boxes on the way to work. The result: a squished and torn-up newspaper.

Unless it’s been raining and what’s left of the run-over and squished, torn-up mess is buried in the mud.

Or unless the delivery person missed the right-of-way completely and the paper landed in the middle of the road and it turned into — as evidenced by shreds wafting in the breezes even hours later — instant confetti.

And that’s when we GET our delivery.

Sometimes the fill-ins dump the paper on the side of the road 200 feet on either side of our driveway -- one day it’s on one side; the next, the other — or with pinpoint accuracy throws the paper over the fence into the yard across the street.

(Note: "They" don’t even subscribe.)

So Joe, I’m really sorry that your tootsies get damp because yer paper ends up in the grass IN your yard instead of ON your driveway, but . . . you wanna trade delivery dweebs?

(Disclaimer: mumble-something years ago fighting to make ends meet, after I got off my regular, full-time job I usta be one.)