Not Unlike a Compound Fracture

The winners of the M&M’s Giveaway have been notified, and all but one has responded. (If you are Betsy who guessed the winning M&M amount at the shower, please shoot an e-mail my way! You’re a winner!)

Anyway, this morning I lugged four boxes of M&M’s to the post office. And I’m exaggerating when I say this, but: each box weighed about eighty pounds.

Post Office Guy: Do these boxes contain anything liquid or perishable?

Me: Well, each box is filled with M&Ms. But I’ve packed them with weird bubble wrap stuff. I just need to send them all as inexpensively as possible.

Post Office Guy: Do you want insurance or confirmation of delivery?

Me: Nope.

Post Office Guy: You don’t care if they get there, do you? You didn’t even put a return address on these boxes!

Me: I sort of want them to GET there, but if they don’t, I definitely don’t want them back. I really can’t be trusted with M&Ms in the house.

Post Office Guy (using his Sly Hopping Eyebrow): So you’re kind of Whatever about the delivery, and you don’t want them back, right?

Me (proving that my eyebrow can jump higher than his): Truer words have never been spoken, Mr. Postman.

Post Office Guy: Thank you for the M&Ms.

Me: Enjoy them. I liked the raspberry ones the best.

Post Office Guy: You know, when you leave this building, I’m going on an M&M break.

Me: If you have to suffer a break, I hear an M&M break is the best kind.

Later this week I’ll update you on Stitches Midwest and Bruce Springsteen.
Ah, Bruce Springsteen.