The Moment I Rethought My Life Choices, This Week...

The last two days in the mail truck have been, well, less than fun.  

I have a loaner from the plant, as mine was taken for routine maintenance, which basically means they might put washer fluid in it and will promptly return my mail truck complete with it's current exhaust leak and bald tires in tact. 

And as you would expect, the loaner is FILTHY, but after several lysol wipe downs and a quick trash run, I was off to run the route.  Making my way to the first box, I notice several spiders have hitched a ride to nowhere along side me. Yes, I killed the ones near me, I am after all, allergic to most bites. I left the light brown one on the ceiling though, as he was over the tray side, not bothering me, and honestly I could not reach him.  Anyhoo...

Driving along and I start to smell something.  *sniff, sniff*  It's melting plastic. The heavy, thick, headache worthy, pungent smell of burning plastic.  Yet, I see no smoke, so I carry on, realizing only later that it was the dashboard getting so hot it was starting to get soft. I debated etching some memorable quotes into it, but refrained.  

I arrive at my first group of mailboxes that I have to get out to deliver for, a campground with a small petting zoo.   I save my morning banana peel for the goats as it is a favorite of theirs. It was so hot that all but one wouldn't come out of their house, and the one that was lounging on the picnic table four feet from me wouldn't even get up to meet me at the fence. 

Lazy bastard.

Wait.  

I take it back. 

I would also be totally laying on the picnic table doing nothing if I could.

But I can't.  There's mail to deliver and only one crazy me to do it.  

So I drive on... bill, bill, grocery flyer, package... box to box... until...

The three day old road kill. 

I hold my breath upon the approach, but the bread line of traffic to reenter the road forces me to inhale at an inopportune time.  Which is when I noticed it.  No smell.  None.  No flies either. I think the sun has actually cooked the raccoon's insides. So gross.  And yet, scientific.  

Moving on...

My brand new scanner overheats.  The buttons no longer work.  Which means I can no longer accurately pinpoint where everyone's package lands on their property, or get signatures when required.  Unfortunately, management can still track my whereabouts with it, so I carry on...

...and that's when it happens.  

That spider that wasn't bothering me before?  

Falls from the ceiling of the truck into my mail.

Dead.

As a doornail.

Right there.

One minute doing his spider-y business, swinging from his web, then.... plop!

Spiders survive nuclear war, floods, fire. And yet, the heat of the mail truck did him in.

And I still had three hours to go.

Lord help me.  

13 years and 2 months until retirement...