The one thing I didn't want to happen has happened. Mommy Dearest has obtained my mailing address. Don't know how she did it, but I gots me my ideas. Nefarious twisting of postal arms perhaps? Loads of skanky double talk maybe? Checked with the five folkies who knew and they all said, "NONONO!" (imagine the tone of the late Amy Winehouse) and I am taking them at their collective words. I'm sure beans will eventually spill. They usually do.
Proves the points I've been keeping. One is that my desire for a bit of privacy and peace is meaningless when stacked up against the needs of others to compulsively control. And, two, that I am powerless against the juggernaut of MD and her Flying Monkeys. What they want they get. Case closed.
Maybe they missed the part in my prior post where I ran up a white flag of surrender. I have been expelled. They win. They no longer have to be concerned with seeing, smelling, or hearing the likes of me. I got the lesson, Ladies. You can move on to other blood sports now. Try clubbing baby harp seals or pulling the wings off doves.
One final note to the owner of 607. No need to go to the trouble and expense of reposting junk mail to me. I promise not to press any imaginary charges of postal tampering; so you can stop using that as a justification. Whatever comes to your house you can toss or burn or use it to clean up after the dog. Save your postage money for your next trip up north or your Sunday morning brunches. Or you can put what you would have wasted on stamps and envelopes into a trust fund for the Disappointing Daughter. Totally your decision. The mail communication I want I already receive.
I'm really sorry it has come to this. I never realized that refusing to pick up a telephone would be used as a method of punishment. Just what is the lesson I'm being taught? I know what I've learned, but I bet it was not what you intended.
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