So mainly I've been having a crisis about my life as a writer lately. Boring. I won't share details. But long story short I've wondered if I even want to keep this up.
Then yesterday I had an experience with my mailman. I was out front with my dogs and noticed suddenly that the mailman (who'd previously been walking toward our house) crossed the street. At first I thought he was mixing the route up to make his life more interesting. Dude. Delivering day after day has got to be even more boring than my crisis. Then I realized my dogs were making him nervous, even though they were doing nothing but sniffing air. Still. Seeing a dog that weighs 170 pounds covered with drool has got to be intimidating. So I gave Mr. Mail Guy a friendly wave and said I'd take the dogs inside.
"Too late," he said as he walked on by. "No mail for you today." I'M NOT KIDDING. MY MAILMAN WAS CHANNELING THE SOUP NAZI.
Not only that but he didn't deliver to the neighbors on either side of me, he was avoiding me and the dogs by that much.
I was stunned. And furious. Seriously I wanted to to chase him down and beat him around the ears with all those annoying circulars from Shopko that he keeps leaving me.
And at the exact same time I was feeling the hate, a calm neutral part of my brain was going, "Now how can I use this in a story?"
I must not be ready to throw in the towel completely.