jennifer
When I was in my early 20s, my favorite errand was going to the post office.  Then ten years of living in the city got to me and I despised going to the post office to stand in long lines, pay too much, and deal with extremely rude employees.  But, now that I'm back in the country, I absolutely love it again.  Everyone is so friendly, there's rarely a line (if you can even call one person in front of you a line), and I get to visit multiple small town offices (although the government is slowly closing them all down around here--maybe more on that later.)

While I was packaging up some "thinking of you" items today to send off, I remember a time when I had a curse placed on me in Kansas City.  I found my old blog post about it and had a good laugh.  Since I had an allergic reaction to a wasp sting (which got me a bulky epi pen to carry from now on) and poison ivy all over my face and arms in the same day, I've taken to forming to the couch cushions, dosing up on steroids, and slathering on calamine lotion and just don't have the energy for an entirely new post.  So, I'm re-sharing this oldie, originally posted on June 4, 2009.



My trip to the post office today was the perfect example of the weird things that happen to me in public places.

The post office was once my favorite errand to run. But since every trip now seems to hold a price increase on stamps, longer lines, and slower employees, it is much less joyful. Luckily, I am done with work at 2:30 everyday, which happens to be an ideal time for all my USPS needs. The lunch rush is gone and the after work rush has not yet begun.

On today's postal jaunt, I needed postage for two small packages, six two-cent stamps, and a book of forever stamps. When I arrived on the scene, there was one person in line. I patiently waited while she added seventeen cents of postage to her letter. As the postal worker moved at a painfully slow speed, I noticed that a man had joined the line behind me.

I'm usually a very visually observant person, but I didn't have to see this guy to know he was there. I could smell him. As I slowly and discreetly tried to inch myself farther away from him, he crept his way closer to me. I couldn't pinpoint the smell. It wasn't the smell of frying something in grease, or sweaty body odor, or living with dirty pets. It was something I had never smelled before, but from looking at the man, I could only guess that it was just a general smell of filth.

Ordinarily, this would be a person that I would feel really sorry for and go out of my way to show some kindness to. I might make small talk and give him a big smile or an honest compliment. But this guy's stench sent any grain of altruism in my body right down the drain.

As the woman in front of me was fishing the last pennies out of her purse, The Stink tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Ma'am, do you have a lot to mail?" I answered, "Just these two packages." He retorted, "Oh...cause I just have this one thing...it would be nice if I could go ahead of you and get out of here..."

Right. You have one package and I only have two packages. So, if you're looking at the glass half empty, I have twice as much stuff to mail as you. But if you're looking at the glass half full, I only have one more package to mail than you. So sorry buddy, but you're gonna have to keep staring at my backside. I'd like to get out of here, too. In other words, I just kind of ignored his comment and didn't offer him the advanced spot in line.

As I approached the counter and paid for my postage, I could hear The Stink mumbling. I figured he was just grumbling about how "inconsiderate" I was, but as I turned to leave he yelled, "Stop!"

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face him, sure that he had gone postal (pun intended) and was pointing a firearm at me. He did have a weapon, but not a physical item. Instead, he had a weapon of words. He started mumbling again and then ended by clearly stating that he had put a curse on me!

I looked at the Postmaster who appeared more frightened than me. It was obvious that that wimp wasn't going to do anything about it, so I made an about face, hastily went out the door and jumped in my Jeep.

I actually forgot about the curse until I got home and noticed a pain in my right leg. Jumping to conclusions, I was sure that the curse was starting to work on me. This guy wouldn't just kill me off quickly by having a piano fall on me from a 20 story building or making my heart abruptly stop beating. He was going to make me suffer a dilatory and agonizing death.

Unless I've done something to "reverse the curse", I'll probably wake up tomorrow morning as a limp blob of body fat, unable to do anything but roll off the side of the bed, lie uncomfortably on the hardwood floor and replay the scenario over and over in my mind, wishing I had just let the man mail his package before me, while my insides slowly seep out through my pores.
5 Responses
  1. Wow ... what a weirdo!!! I'm sure that the stinky guy's demented ramblings will have a totally horrible effect on your life.

    ... Then again, probably not. :)


  2. Hilarious! If that's all it takes to get a curse - well then I'm pretty much screwed.


  3. Terri Says:

    I believe in voodoo. I know SJ is still feeling the Italian devil horns my family has put on him over our painful 4 year relationship.


  4. Ginny Says:

    Don't worry, a little holy water and you should be fine. I have represented witches before, I know - I sound like I am lying, but I am not. One of my clients was arrested with a "wooden twig" - i.e. a wand, a dagger and curved knife. He was conducting safety spells in a local park. Most of my experience with self proclaimed witches or sorcerers (I know, again, I am not making this up) - they are either schizophrenics or people with personality disorders. You were probably in more danger from the smell than his curse. But, just in case, get the holy water and crosses out - just in case.


  5. jennifer Says:

    Rita,
    I hope you're right!

    Marnie Elizabeth,
    I know--I've done so many worse things than not letting someone in front of me in line. I should have been cursed long ago.

    Terri,
    I think you mean DH, not SJ.

    Ginny,
    Your stories are as entertaining as some of the ones I have from working in mental health! Did you have a little splash of holy water that you carried with you in your suits?