Going postal

Sent my previous landlords a rent cheque a few weeks ago - the last one, in fact, in a long line of cheques I've been sending them for (a personal record) nine months. The envelope (and the cheque within) got returned to me with no significant action taken such as postmarking the stamp (or indeed, cashing the cheque). No evidence whatsoever to indicate that it had ever left my possession. Or that it was any different than the several other cheques I've had to send over to the nincompoops at the previous landlord's office.

Mysterious you say? Indeed it was.

Although often content to leave mysteries well enough alone (I've seen the films, I know what happens to girls who go nosing around business that isn't their own), somehow I couldn't bring myself to leave this one unsolved. So I took the envelope down to the post-office and put the problem to the lady behind the counter.

She examined the envelope as thoroughly as I'd hoped she would. She looked at it forward and backwards, upside down and right way round. She might even have smelled it. She took it away and brought it back. And in the end, she said 'so why have they sent it back to you?'

To which I replied, incensed and justifiably so I feel, 'I don't know, THAT'S WHAT I JUST ASKED YOU'.

In the end we agreed on sending it as a recorded delivery and no more was said about the mystery of its return.

This incident has left me wondering if, just as Toosy is the keeper of the madness moths, I am the flame to which stupidity moths are drawn.