We just arrived at our place after our long-ass vacation to find…
In our mailbox: tons of mail that the USPS did not hold like they said they would, but instead jammed into the mailbox in a haphazard manner.
On our answering machine: seven, count ‘em, seven messages from the car dealership we visited before we left about “earning our business.” I get that you’re eager to earn it, lady, but seven messages (and a mailed letter)? You’re really really pushing it.
Downstairs: our new neighbors have a crying, barking puppy.
Cue the tiny string quartet.