How you know its time to get out of the house

You obsess over the, admittedly strange, behaviour of the post man.

Well what else am I going to do today - ebay might be delivering the “stunning” French antique curtain that will be going on the window of my freshly painted dressing room. (Sorry to the guys growing weed in the house behind us - you will no longer wake to the wondrous sight of Colleen’s topless ironing or my daily fashion show of 7 different ensembles before I can get dressed. And yes, we can see the impressive hydroponic set up in your back room – you also might wanna think about curtains.)

Any hoo, I’ve been waiting for over an hour for him to make his way up the street to find out if today is curtain day! He was stopped chatting at number 17 for a really really long time and now he seems to have disappeared, so either I am not getting any mail today or ‘ole postie is getting lucky.

I had a very important outing to the dry cleaners and tescos planned and the sun is actually shining so I’d like to get out there and try to enjoy my insanely boring life of leisure, but the moment I do is when the mail will come.

I’ve become this ridiculous curtain twitching house wife looking out every five minutes to track his progress and speculating on how desperate you’d have to be to find our postman attractive and it’s really cutting into my busy schedule of list writing (detailed planning of things that will never happen) and watching reruns of the Gilmore Girls. (Why do I find that show so comforting – it’s oddly soothing to me. Strange, I never would have watched it when it was on originally.)

So should I stay or should I go? I suppose if I miss the mail today that will mean an exciting outing to Tomb street depot tomorrow. I had planned to use that time to write angry letters to the BBC, another way you know its time to get out of the house...