I know, it's been a while since I bothered to update here. I suck. Let's all just agree on that and move on, okay?
So, weird things have been afoot around here lately, and it kind of led me to a ridiculous and totally implausible theory. It's absolute nonsense, but it amuses me and hopefully will amuse you as well. Maybe not -- I don't know. It's a long story, so grab yourself your beverage of choice and snuggle in, because this is going to take a while. (And if you get bored, stop reading. I will never know the difference.)
Need a bit more convincing? The other title I almost went with for this post: Like I'm Living in a Weird Bermuda Triangle. Does that make it more enticing?
Let us begin.
My ridiculous theory: I'm starting to think my street has taken on the status of an imaginary place.
Lately, it's almost as if people have collectively decided to pretend that my house, and even my entire street, no longer exists -- or maybe we are under some kind of mystical field that only lets our presence be noted at certain times. You know, like Hamunaptra in the movie The Mummy, except we are nowhere near as fancy or important.
Let me try to explain the weirdness. I promise I haven't gone off the deep end. I just like my crazy theory better than whatever the mundane explanation eventually turns out to be.
It all started with the postal service, of all things. At first I thought it was just me and that the post office had some secret vendetta against me. I had been waiting for a few things to come in the mail, and they all should have arrived long ago -- the most important was my car registration and my loan payment book, amongst a few other things. I eventually got my car registration, and I can't even blame the post office for how long that took. I'm sure the great state of New York played a role in its delay as well. My loan book showed up after the first payment was due, and looked like it had come to me via Alaska. Other things never arrived at all.
I chalked it up to just being a weird glitch in the system. That was followed by quite a few days where I got absolutely no mail at all. Nada. No junk mail, no seasonally popular political mailings, nothing. I'm not counting the holidays, either.
That might not seem too strange. It's not. The weird part was the mail that I did receive.
I have gotten mail addressed to a gentleman who hasn't lived here in over 20 years. He's not even the previous owner that I bought the house from. I know he lived here at some point because he wrote his name in the cement in the cellar floor.
He gets mail. I don't.
I've also gotten mail addressed to a Walgreens pharmacy. I readily admit my love for Walgreens, and I stop in there way too often. My house is not now, nor has it ever been, a Walgreens pharmacy. I also do not live in Freedom Plains, so I really don't understand how this wound up in my mailbox.
Already delivered to a different wrong address!
The address is not even remotely close to mine....well, the part of the address that is even there. The return address on the back was for some health science lab near Albany. This I get delivered to my house? I did not open it, of course. It's none of my business. I put it back out so it can continue its magical voyage through the postal system. Who knows where it has been, or what exciting destination it may visit next! I just hope it's not something important, like someone's prescription for desperately needed medication.
Side note: Friends, if your pharmacist tells you that they never received your prescription -- don't bite their head off or assume they are incompetent. That is doubly true if your prescription is going through the mail. It might well be on a magical mystery tour of its very own.
Why was this happening? Had I somehow pissed off the postal service? I didn't think I had. I don't get a lot of large, heavy packages delivered. I participate in their food drives. I even give them homemade cookies at Christmas time! I'm a freaking awesome customer, damn it. I did consider filing a complaint with the post office, but did I really want to piss them off? Things were weird enough already.
I decided to ask one of my neighbors if they were having the same problem. Friends, if you have been following along on my blog (or Facebook or Twitter) for any amount of time, you know that I have some interesting neighbors, and they like to be very involved in my life. As the youngest person on my street, I think I somehow became their vicarious form of entertainment when I moved in. I'm cool with that. I'd rather have neighbors that are friendly, and chat, and keep an eye out for each other.
Back to my point....
My neighbor tells me that her mail has been sketchy lately also. At least it wasn't just me! We decided that maybe we just had a temporary mailman while the normal dude was on vacation or something, and things were backlogged.
Then she told me the story about her friend and her GPS. That's when my ridiculous theory really started to form in my brain.
Her friend was coming to visit from out of the area and hadn't been here in a few years. She was relying on her GPS to get her to her destination. Apparently she drove most of the way here without needing directions. When she got closer she tried to plug in the address and it told her that there was no such street. Say what? This is not a new street. We are not in some fancy new development. My house has been here since the 1930s. The poor lady ended up having to park at a restaurant and call my neighbor to get directions.
Eventually they were united, and they tried to figure out what happened to the GPS. Turns out the GPS did not believe our street existed in Poughkeepsie, but in the non-existent town of Arlington. Arlington is a school district. It is a fire district. It is a "population center" in Poughkeepsie for the census data. It is not a separate town. Just ask Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arlington,_New_York
I wonder if my mail is getting screwed up by this as well? I have gotten some things with an address of Arlington, NY. On the other hand, my brother had no problems with his GPS when he came to visit. It knew my street existed.
That, Friends, is the weirdness that has been going on lately. I'm starting to think my street has taken on the status of an imaginary place. Maybe it can only be found by people who already know it is here -- like Diagon Alley or 12 Grimmauld Place.
I'd be totally cool with having wizards for neighbors, for the record.
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