Trapped Like A Rat In The Starting Blocks, Ready To Sprint To The NOT-Dead-Mouse-Smelling Post Office

I knew it would happen. I had a premonition. I'm such a psychic. I even told Farmer H on Tuesday, when he informed of Friday's scheduled events.

"I'm not selling on Friday. I'll go up there to tell them guys I ain't comin', so they don't look for me, but I'll be right back home. [Copper Jack's Human Daddy] is getting a new trailer. They're going to deliver it Friday morning, and I'm going to help him with his gravel he's getting then, too."

"Great. Friday morning. I'm sure it will be blocking the road at the exact time I need to go to town and mail the boys' letters. I always leave here at 10:30. I know I'll run into them."

Friday morning, Farmer H gave me my wake-up call at 9:00. He came back in at 10:00, to say he was headed over to Copper Jack's yard to wait on the trailer.

"It's at the prison right now. Buddy was going to pick up another load of gravel, and saw it there ten minutes ago."

"Okay. I'm getting in the shower, then heading to town. Will you text me when it's here? So I know I can get out on our road?"

"Yeah. It should be here by then."

Let the record show that the distance from the prison to the Mansion is approximately 4 miles. Takes about 6 minutes to drive, unless you have to turn around and take an alternate route because of poop trucks. Granted, a truck pulling a mobile home might take longer. But it looked like my time window for escape might open up.

I was out of the shower at 10:20, and saw that Farmer H had sent me a text two minutes earlier. "They're at the bottom of the [Farmer H and Buddy bad-blacktopped] hill."

Okay. Shouldn't be long now. I put on my socks. Got a deposit ready for The Pony's bank account. Sat down in the La-Z-Boy, and watched out the front window. For a long time. I was pretty sure I'd miss the mail pick-up time of 11:30. Oh, well. It's not like that would make much difference for The Pony's letter, which was likely to take nine days, IF it arrived at all. Genius, though, gets on the phone if his letter doesn't show up on Monday. I'm pretty sure it's a scratcher thing, not a letter thing.

At 10:50, I saw the truck and trailer go by. Then a couple of support trucks. The trailer had some tree limbs clinging to its front corner. Not a good sign. Farmer H called, and I said I was on my way out the door.

Of course it took a few extra seconds to back T-Hoe out of the garage, what with his passenger mirror unfolded-in. I couldn't stop to pick up the mail from EmBee, because I was running so late. Besides, I had to take the alternate route from there, to avoid the poop trucks, which was a couple extra minutes.

When I pulled into the main post office parking area over in Sis-Town, the time was 11:20. Of course all parking spaces were full, except for the very last one. I felt like it took me ten minutes to walk inside, slow going for my joints, this being a non-ibuprofen day. When I got back to T-Hoe, it was 11:25. So I think I made it. Unless some over-efficient postal worker picked up that outgoing mail a few minutes early.

Little did I know, that would be the easiest part of my outing...