While we were in Middlebury this summer, some friends of ours were in charge of collecting our mail for us. When we got back, there was one mysterious item in the huge stack of weekly (now vintage) Fry's ads and helpful doctor appointment reminder notices: a package addressed to Josh Perkins.
There is no such person living with us, of course. When I took a look at the address, I noticed that it was a few numbers off of ours, but it indicated a house that doesn't exist. Why the mail carrier delivered it anyway, I'll never know. Perhaps because it came from Canada, or because the sender spelled Tucson wrong (Tuscon), so what's one (or two) more errors?
The problem is, this package has been sitting in our house ever since then, gathering dust. I just don't know what to do with it. The sensible thing would have been to take it to the post office as soon as we got back from Middlebury, since it shows a mailing date of June 21 and plenty of time had already passed with it stagnating in our house over the summer. But we were busy re-establishing our lives, and the new life of little Magdalena, and it just didn't happen.
Now it's November, and with each day that passes, it's going to be more and more embarrassing to bring the package into the post office and do whatever needs to be done with it.
If the fact that it's taken almost five months to return this package to the sender isn't bad enough, there's the added humiliation of what it looks like now. Somehow, Miriam got a hold of it and scribbled on it, and also punched a pen tip through the paper a few times.
So if Josh Perkins ever gets his package, I hope he doesn't mind the shape that it's in.
If anyone has any great ideas for excuses I can give the post office employee when I finally get around to taking in this package, let me know.