Da Goddess

Mr. Postman

My dearest darling Mr. Postman,

I feel it's time for me to speak up and be a more active participant in our relationship. You see, lately I've been feeling neglected. Or rather, parts of me have.

Sure, you keep stuffing my box. Fuller and fuller, each and every day (except Sundays.) I think I've reached a truly uncomfortable level though.

Really, a girl can only have her box so full before it bursts. And, in this instance, the only option is for you to come to the other door and deliver your goodies there. Is that what you're after? I mean, that one day a couple of weeks ago, you did open the door and let yourself in to hand me that treasure load.

Cute as you are, playing post office is fun only if you manage to get the deliveries in the appropriate slot. One to which I have handy access and no sticky key problems. Tell you what, next time you have a delivery for me, push the right buttons and I'll come quickly. We'll pop that lock off the box and put the new one in place. We'll turn that key over and over and over and over again until we can't take it anymore.

I'll be waiting for you.

Love,
Da Goddess

P.S. Have I told you how much I love a man in uniform?