Murder At The Post Office
Some of you might remember my post, Murder At The Elementary School, which turned out to be a bizarre suicide rather than murder. I was pretty freaked out about the whole thing and posted about it--repeatedly--even though this is supposed to be a humor blog. At least I try to be either entertaining, amusing, uplifting or inspiring. I have spent too many years in the past living through some really dark days to want to make anyone feel any negative emotion. Consequently, I get a lot of joy out of making people feel good. (Except for those who make me feel bad. Those will be punished. Instantly and thoroughly. Did I mention I’ve had my fill of feeling bad?)
For that reason, I hesitate to post about the murder that took place at the post office in my Mayberry-esque little town because there is nothing amusing, uplifting or inspiring about it. The police aren’t releasing many details so there isn’t much to say except that a very nice 73 year old man with a wife, kids and grandkids who all live here in town and who was at the post office retrieving mail from his P.O. box was stabbed multiple times by a man who is rumored to be mentally ill.
Ain’t life grand? At least it gives more credence to the phrase “going postal”. (Why did it have to happen at the post office? The one where everyone knows my name? And my husband’s name? And kid’s names? Why the one where the nice postal worker who ran out of the building yelling to the populace at large to give chase after the perp is the same nice worker who always gives my Little Guy candy prompting LG to bring candy to the worker in return?)
The ironic thing about it is, just that morning as The Spouse and I were out running errands, we were chatting about how stressed people are these days and how hard life is going to be for everyone in this economy and how there was going to be a lot more crime. “We aren’t ever going to want to leave our Mayberry-esque little town,” I said with a feeling of smug satisfaction. On the way home, we tried to stop by the post office to put a Netflix in the mailbox but all roads leading to the post office were blocked off. You know--the one smack-dab in the middle of our Mayberry-esque little town. It seems that sometime between the time we drove out of town that morning and the time we drove back a few hours later, somebody succumbed to the pressures of life and committed an act of random murder. (I'll be back tomorrow with something a bit more laughable. At least I hope so . . .)
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