My corner shop had sold out of postage stamps, so I went to another sub post office to get some. And ended up getting more than I bargained for. Why do I always find them? The family from hell was in front of me in the queue. Mother-retard had decided to buy every item that the post office supplied. But one item at a time, pay for it, count her change, and then buy something else. The three hundred and forty seventh item (I counted!) was a postal order. Did she want it crossed or not crossed? After five minutes of indecision, we actually had tears over this dilemma. She didn’t know. Why should she know? She just wanted a postal order.
Meanwhile smallest-son-retard was trying and failing to steal sweets from the shop counter, and oldest-son-retard was seeing how hard he could punch the post office’s weighing scales, despite the woman behind the counter’s constant screeching at him not to.
Regular readers of this drivel might recall a posting of a few weeks ago (3rd August) when I mentioned about my new dress. I had a bit of a shock today. My boss’s boss’s boss has got a new dress. And it is identical to mine. I spent all day alternating between fits of giggles and having to stop myself from telling her…
but who will carry it off better?
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