You've Got Mail

On average, ninety nine per cent of what I find in my mailbox goes straight into recycling. So many wasted trees.

The other day, as I was quickly sorting through the mess, I came upon a puzzling item. Not anything like the usual fare -- catalogs for stores I've never heard of, paper bills confirming my paperless online payment (wtf?), cards offering up the best landscaping or housecleaning or roofing services. It was a small bubble wrapped envelope, no stamp, my name scrawled hastily on the front, no return address.

I considered putting on a hazmat suit before opening it -- you can never be too careful these days. The envelope felt light, almost empty, and I couldn't help but think it would emit a thin cloud of white powder once opened. I shook it; nothing. I squeezed it; just bubbles. I held it up to the light; well that was pointless.

The mystery envelope still sits, unopened, on top of the pile of things I might get to one day. I've gotten to the point in my life where I just don't like surprises. Suspicious packages, emails from unfamiliar senders, unexpected knocks on the door. I ignore them all. Ninety nine per cent of the time, it's just junk.