CURBSIDE ETIQUETTE

Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess



Below you will find links to dates when new entries are added. The stories will not necessarily be in chronological order, but rather as I remember them. I am dating them so that you can skip to new ones you haven't read since the last time you visited, and so that you are more easily able to find something you found humorous to share with others.
Warning, Will Rogers


Several years back, another paper carrier ended up very ill for almost three months, and unable to deliver her route. I was delivering mine and hers, in an effort to help her keep her route, so unfortunately, many nights I was driving WAY too fast on some of these dark, back roads around here. I have said, over and over, it is amazing I never hit anything, as fast as I was driving, and as horrible as my reflexes are.

One very early morning, the sun was not peeking over the horizon yet, I turned a bend that opened onto a short straight-away. My lights shined upon a big bag of garbage or something in the middle of the road.. I mean dead center. I wasn't even sure I could get around it. I slowed way down, thinking that maybe it was one of those big round "bales" of straw, rather than some big bag of garbage - it was pretty doggone big. I got within probably twenty feet of it, and suddenly, a head poked up from the other side of the heap, exposing a long neck. MY lights reflected back from it's eyes. I SLAMMED on the brakes, having NO idea what sort of alien was lying on the road in front of me. I waited there for what seemed like twenty minutes - probably more like 90 seconds - and it finally decided to get up off of the warm pavement and saunter off of the road and toward the fenced in area along the left side of the road, which I had always assumed was for cattle or horses. Its sillouette looked like a humpless camel; nothing I'd ever seen before. This is rural country around here - it's nothing to find cattle or horses outside of their electric fences, but this was some kind of mutant or something. This fellow meandered back into the driveway, right in front of a sign I hadn't noticed (at 4am and 50 mph) before. "Smith LLama Farm". I can't remember now what their actually name is, but I have not seen another llama there before, or since.

One of the many nights I've kicked myself for not taking a camera with me. "Nobody's gonna believe this one."