In The Mail

Some of you may recall that I get strange mail sometimes, in particular from the Marlboro Man.   We are pen pals, I suppose, although the relationship is shockingly one sided to be honest.  Most recently he has sent me the opportunity to Win! A Trip!  to the Bahamas! Scratch Here!  But I couldn't help but think that it would be terribly awkward if I won, and then requested a "No Smoking" room on their dime.

I also think it is sad that Devin is the one that gets all the mail from Mitt Romney's campaign, all the letters starting with phrases like, "We're writing to you because you have shown yourself to be a strong supporter of the Republican Party and..." when Devin walks around murmuring how he'd like to declare himself an Independent because everyone is ridiculous anyway and I'm the loyal Republican around here, but have I ever gotten noticed? No.  Am I the one that is on all the email mailing lists for my local government leaders? Yes. Have I sent them emails when I wanted them to know my position on different legislations? Yes.  Do I get mail thanking me for being a strong supporter of our party? No.

The Marlboro Man, yes. Mitt Romney, no.  Ah, well.

And now I'm all in a turmoil because of the latest mail mystery around here.  It all started as I was walking past our mail collecting area on Sunday.  Something in the pile caught my eye, I stopped for a closer look.  There was a check on top of the pile, which is nothing unusual except I wasn't expecting any personal checks for Devin or I, so I picked it up for further investigation.  It was from a woman I have never heard of, and the pay-to line was left BLANK.  Strange.  I pulled out the envelope that had clearly come with it, there was no letter, but it was addressed to me.  It had my name in bold black ink, with my address.  The same name as on the check was on the return address.  I asked Devin where it had come from.  He said he had found Hallie opening it and that was all he knew.  I never carried it in from the mailbox, and neither had he.  How did it get into our house?

But really, more importantly, who is this woman and why does she think she owes me money?  I looked at the check again, and on the line where you write the purpose for the money, she had written, "Joseph's Show at Jasper's".  At this point I thought the curiosity would eat me alive.

I tried to look her up in the phone book and I even googled her trying to find her phone number to call and explain that she must have somehow gotten the wrong Amy Rose, and did she want me to tear up this check or what?  But I could not find her phone number anywhere.  Admittedly, google searches are not my strong point.

Her address was on the check and the envelope, so I resolved to take it to her personally the next day and apologize for being the wrong Amy Rose.  It took me two halves of forever to find her place, and when I did - disappointment. There was no one home.  So I hastily wrote her a note, and left the note and check shoved halfway into her door so it wouldn't blow away in the wind.

It has been a couple of days, and in the middle of doing the dishes I'll find myself wondering who the real Amy Rose is.  Or I will be folding tiny pairs of pants and think, "I wonder how Joseph's show went, at Jasper's?" 

But most of all, more than anything, I hope that she finds the real Amy Rose, because she honestly believes that she has paid off that debt, and Amy Rose clearly hasn't been paid, and I hope that can be resolved.  That worry is enough to make me itch to drive over there and just make sure it has all been sorted out.  On a scale of creepy to jail-time-creepy, where would that put me?