Getting the Mail

Yesterday, I went down to the lobby of our building to check our mail slot. There was a notice from the mail carrier that a package had come. Normally, I have to walk about ten to fifteen minutes to the "Poste" across the street from the Palace of Versailles to present my passport and sign for something like that. So, off I went. When I got there they pointed out, in the fine print, "Check with your guardian." Of course, I had passed the guardian (apartment manager) on the way out of the complex.
     By the time I returned, he was nowhere to be found. I returned later and showed my piece of paper to the guardian's wife who tried to tell me that my 9x12 envelope was no longer there in the office (and with a lot of fruitless pantomime) tried to tell me where to look for it. She finally gave up, walked me back to the lobby of my building and pointed to my mail slot.
     There was the envelope. I had walked past it on my way to the guardian's office. She had been trying to tell me that sometime that afternoon while I was on my way to the post office she had come over and put the envelope in the slot.
     There are times when the theme song from Gilligan's Island runs through my head, "… a three hour tour." At least I'm getting my exercise. And I did stop by the local grocery store to pick up some things on the way back to the guardians office.
—Russell