The Postman Should At Least Ring Once

We have a strange mailman. He won't talk to any of the people on his route, but he plays with all the dogs. That doesn't mean any of the dogs like him. The fact is, they don't! Carson has an incredibly accurate biological clock so to speak (or he can simply tell time) and he knows that at 12:30pm every afternoon the mailman will be here. He waits for him on the back of the love seat directly in the window. The mailman arrives, puts the mail in the box, and then looks in the window at Carson and barks at him. No, you read that right. The mailman barks at my dog! But that's beside the point. The point of this post is that the mailman looks in the window.

So, after having pneumonia for the past week and doing very little other than lying about like the Lady of Leisure that I am, I ended up with Sciatica, the pain rolling down my legs and into my knees. I know ... "wah". I still haven't met the point though, this isn't all about whining. So, while I was lying on the couch whining, and even though I knew it wouldn't help, I gave the back of my legs a good rub. Well now you try it ... what's the best way to rub the back of your legs while you're lying down? You just lift your legs in the air and your hands reach the back of your thighs smack on. It didn't ease the pain, but it did feel better. And the pain in my butt cheeks? Might as well rub them too. I guess you know where this is going. Yeah, I got caught by the mailman rubbing my ass with my legs flung high in the air. I had no warning that he was even there ... no one barked, at least, not until after I was seen. And I thought Carson was supposed to be my best friend.