Very Early Sunday Morning
Sunday, August 17th, 2003
Very Early Sunday Morning
A Dom Entry
Did you know that singing peoples' names over and over again doesn't help you to remember any of them?
It does give you something to do while delivering post from house to house through all hours of the afternoon. I don't suppose the citizens of Lauderville would appreciate the fact that I've begun a line of their own theme songs. But, I've been thinking, if there are only ... fifty? ... people living in this place, I should be able to pick up at least three or four names off of the envelopes. I only read them over every day, (excepting Sunday!).
I'm getting a feel for the directions of this town, finally. In fact, I've found that it operates in something of a loop, if you bike about the outlying roads. And otherwise it's nothing much more than a straight ride, clear-cut down the middle. Within town limits, I do a fine job, (if I do say so myself), of reaching each destination. It's the outliers that give me trouble. I'm wondering if the residents are even very friendly. Most of them keep too much to themselves to even peek out of their windows for a look at me. Recluses, maybe. Or hermits.
I have a feeling that the inner-townspeople aren't so keen on the outliers either. Sometimes I overhear stories - strange wanderers and such in the backwoods. Sometimes they even have names for certain more curious persons. Although most of it, I'm sure, is just rubbish. I'll give it to the outliers - why come out of the house if there's absolutely nothing to come out for?
Beside the post, that is. It's practically the only thing that ties everyone together. However elusive the recluse, he will come out for his post. I think I may use this to my advantage. How long would I have to hold their mail before they'd come out and ask me for it in person?
I wish I weren't so bloody tenacious. I need to just get out of this town and stop focusing on things like tempting peoples' patience with a post hostage crisis.
I'll be receiving my first paycheck this Wednesday, and am anxiously awaiting it. Let me rephrase - I am pleased to a point of exultation, because that's just one step closer to getting me out of Lauderville and my river shack and back into my life and happiness.
Sometimes I could swear they slow the clocks in this place to save money on batteries. Days never end. And then, when they do, I wake up and go to work again.
But tomorrow is Sunday. Ah, Sunday.
I think I'll sleep until ... three. Then I suppose I should make a trip to the food mart yet again. My Cheerios are getting stale. And I'd rather have porridge anyway.
Desperate: Single, twenty-six year old male searching for lonely pub - Age: irrelevant. Interests: Lots and lots of beer.
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