I used to suspect someone was messing with me, but now I know it for a fact. My mailbox has been tampered with not once, not twice, but three times. My prime suspects are the juvenile delinquent offspring of my crazy neighbors, of which there are many on this volcano.
The first time, they left a squirming pile of black jungle worms. The second time it was four hissing cockroaches, and the third time, loads of little spiders. I’m just waiting for a mongoose to show up in there and I’m really going to lose my shit.
The mailbox is far from the house (they all are out here) and there are no streetlights, so its a pretty easy target. Its no use talking to the parents. The parents are as delinquent as the kids, and tend to pour the crazy on thick as gravy when confronted about anything. Its cocoNUTs out here in the jungle. Tarzan had better manners than these monkeys. Tarzan wouldn’t mess with peoples mailboxes.
We took the twinnies out to lunch, and they were good for the most part. They’re good little babies, they love to look around and people watch. I ordered a burger, and when it arrived it was about as big as my head. People on this island are incredibly carnivorous. Waiters lose all respect for you if you don’t order a huge quantity of meat with everything. Everything from soup to fruit salad must be ordered with bacon, sausage, and beef patties. When I was pregnant with twins I had a lot more game. Today I could only eat half the burger before begging for mercy.
I’m trying to psyche myself up for next week, when we’ll start introducing solid foods to Mumu and Lulu. I’m terrified about it, yet oddly impatient to start. The way Mumu was looking at my burger today, I was glad she was strapped to that carrier. There must be something in the water here that makes people want to eat vast quantities of meat and mess with peoples mailboxes.
