Special Delivery

Yesterday I shared my poop box with you! No, you don't have to thank me. I'm selfless like that. It was my pleasure. And now, since I'm sure you're all thirsty for more, have a hunger to ingest all possible info available on my poop box...I'll serve up another portion.

This is my poop box right after it was delivered. After I took it from Farmer H at the door. No, this is NOT to imply that I turned the poop box askew after it was filled. Well, after the container in it was filled. Well, not FILLED, but provided with a sample. The directions pointed out that it was not necessary to FILL the container. With specific instructions not to OVERFILL the container. Oh, and it also warned NOT TO DRINK the fluid that was supposed to be poured into the container before sealing it.

The directions said that the sample should be sent back within 24 hours. Of course I didn't want my sample to sit around the Mansion for 23 hours. So I planned my sample-providing to coincide with my daily trip to town. The box was all ready to go. It was self-addressed. Only needed the flaps closed up after peeling off a sticky strip. According to the insert, I could have it picked up at my door by UPS, or put it in a UPS drop box, or take it to a UPS store.

Heh, heh!

No way was I going to call UPS, give them directions to the Mansion, and have them pick up my poop box. Nor was I going to try and shove that cube of a box into a UPS drop box. That left only one option. I would load my poop box in T-Hoe, and drive it down to Bill-Paying Town to the UPS store. I've been there before for other things. I think the most recent was sending a non-working refurbished satellite receiver to DISH. So it's been a while. Either Genius or The Pony accompanied me that time. Sadly, I had no copilot while driving my poop box to UPS.

Let the record show that my poop box did NOT ride shotgun. No siree, Bob! I put it on the seat behind me, wedged in with a soft package I'd never bothered to carry in. I think it might be socks. It was only after I'd been driving for 15 minutes of my 45-minute journey that I realized a near-collision would send my poop box forward, slamming into my headrest. I was extra careful.

I found a parking spot right in front of the UPS door. It's in a mini-mall, a glass storefront. While I imagined everybody inside watching me gather my poop box, while making childish comments about me...in truth, nobody was manning the desk. Once inside, I'd already set my poop box on the counter by the time a lady came out of the back room. She asked how she could help me, and I choked down the urge to guffaw. I said only, "I'm here to send this package."

My poop box was clearly labeled HUMAN SPECIMEN. I know that lady saw it. She could see that it needed no money from me to send it on its way. She asked if I wanted a receipt. (SWEET GUMMI MARY! At first I typed that as "recipe," which is SO VERY WRONG!) Oh, that guffaw was getting harder and harder to contain. "Yes, please."

Seriously! Would YOU hand over your poop box to someone without getting a receipt?

As I turned to exit, receipt in hand, I could see that lady picking up my poop box to set it on the side counter next to another box. That did NOT contain poop. As far as I knew.

I wonder if there's anything about poop boxes in the job description for a UPS store clerk.