When God joins a man and a woman together, he usually ensures that at least one of them goes postal. Wait–that didn’t come out right.
Let me start over.
When God joins a man and woman together, he usually ensures that at least one of them is proficient in all things related to the mail: notes, thank you notes, and returning invitations on time. There has never been a couple more bankrupt in this department than Julie and myself.
Wedding thank you notes were a six month trial, and I wonder if a few distant relatives on my list probably hate me because didn’t have the resolve to deliver just thanks. The mother of one friend called before the wedding, “Are you guys coming, we didn’t receive your reply card?”
My response: “Of course we’re coming, we sent the reply card months ago!” After the wedding we found it in our junk drawer of all places.
Today I vacuumed Julie’s car. With the understanding that her car only serves the purpose of transporting her to work–and it’s not a bad car, we just like our Subaru better–we have neglected interior maintenance.
I wanted to surprise her, so I cleared out trash and sucked up the gravel, dust, crumbs, and whatever else. On the floor of the back seat sat the reply card for her best friend’s wedding.
This card was going to change everything for us. I filled it out the day it arrived and proudly took it into the car so I could hand-deliver it to the post office.
I’m not sure what happened, but somehow the card ended up on the floor of the car. It was due on May 1st. The curse continues.
Julie is the maid of honor in this wedding, so I don’t think the mother of the bride or the bride worried all that much about the card. In my eyes it was the thought, the ceremony, the gesture. And I blew it. I blew it big time.
The card has been sent safely on its way for now. There’s another wedding coming up in August, and I’m training myself now to increase my mail box accuracy for the big event.