Posted in Back in My Day

OH. Those Christmas cards.

When I was a kid, I sold Christmas cards door to door, from a sample catalog. They were beautiful cards, with all manner of sparkly crap and embossed gold or silver bits. The ones that Walmart sells just don’t cut it. So we ordered the fanciest ones we could find. I like to beat Aunt Jean to the punch if I can.

Mailman sorting letters and daydreaming about his postal pension.
“Just 22 years, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days… Then I can collect that sweet, sweet pension…”