Return to Sender

I pride myself on being on of those  really "on top of it" people. Between my extensive list making and my calendar, nothing gets past me, unless I let it. Yesterday, at approximately 4:00 in the afternoon, the unthinkable occurred. Completely unbidden, the thought rushed into my mind that I'd never renewed my parking sticker which expires today. And thanks to my hyper vigilant friendly neighborhood ticketers, there seemed little chance I could sqeak by an extra day with an old pass.

Thankfully, we have a parking space, which I'm using to avoid said ticket, but I set two alarms on my phone to make sure to bring all the paperwork I need to get my pass today (luckily I work right next to the city hall).

This morning, I get up, get ready, grab my registraion and head to work. Just as I get on the T and settle into a window seat, I'm hit with another bolt of lightening. I don't have a piece of mail proving I really live at my address (which I needed last time)! I panic for a brief moment and then force myself to relax. This is a problem; I love to solve problems. I'll figure it out.

All the way to work, I devise a sneaky little plan. I'll write myself a bogus letter on company letter head, including my mailing address of course. I'll use a window envelope. The only problem? To make it legitimate, there needs to be a stamp on it. So how can I use our mail machine to mail and stamp my envelope without drawing attention to myself? There would never be a reason for me to be mailling anything in the first place, let alone at 9:00 AM in the morning on a Friday. I brainstorm how to do it without being conspicious. And then realize, to make it even more believable, I can reopen the letter I just sealed with a letter opener, and maybe crinkle the envelope a little to make it look like it's been through the USPS ringer. I'm getting really into it now!

I arrive to work in high spirits ( these kinds of crazy endevours always get my blood pumping!) and see a friend in the kitchen. Before anything else, I tell her all about my plan and, ask her advice about the best way to execute the mail machine portion.

"Katy," she responds, "you can just print out a statement from Comcast or other online account, that's what I do. It has your address on it."

oh.

right.

duh.

{post script: shortly after writing this post, I  used my lunch break to head down to city hall to renew my pass. The woman helping me never asked to see my piece of mail. She didn't even look at anything besides my registration. . .}