Remember that post I wrote that mentioned Regina Spektor? And how you said she was awesome? And that you were totally going to buy me a copy? But Amazon America wouldn't take your pounds? So you were going to make something happen and send it through the mail?
Yeah. You're pretty much the best person I know.
Anyway, the envelope came in the mail today, noting the postage (£1.87) and the date of departure (03/03.07) on a neat, white sticker.
What was not marked on the sticker but which I was able to ascertain all too quickly was that one end of the envelope had been cut open and that the US Postal Service had stamped it with RECEIVED WITHOUT CONTENTS.
I'm not sure where to begin.
With how bummed I am?
By railing against fate?
I feel a sort of guilt--as if this were my fault. I feel a sort of rage--although against what I could not say. I feel a sort of dread--lest this twist in the story drive you over some mental precipice. Not that I consider that likely, but it's just the way this story seems to be going.
I really like the color of pen you used to address the envelope.
your unfortunate pal,
ps: sorry i don't know any welsh jokes to lighten the mood.....