Good Morning!
Oct. 7th, 2006 02:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bjarvisI generally despise mornings but they do have their purpose periodically.
This particular morning, my alarm woke me at 7:30 AM but I successfully ignored it for 15 minutes, enjoying a warm bed for just a little longer.
Once showered & dressed, I delivered the local civic association neighbourhood to the residents of my street. They've been sitting in our living room for almost two weeks. While I usually like to deliver them asap because (a) I hate having outstanding tasks on my to-do list and (b) activities which support community participation & connectedness are generally things I wish to support. The delay in delivery however was due to a very heavy work load, my periodic travel and my trivial bit of pique against the newsletter coordinator.
I'm supposed to be the secondary deliverer of newsletters in our area, not the primary; still, I seem to be the first person contacted by our newsletter editor & delivery volunteers. This isn't such a bad thing except that they're supposed to contact me first to ensure I'm actually able to deliver the newsletters. Of late, a stack has simply materialized on my doorstep with a post-it note attached. This last time, they showed up on a Friday afternoon after we had already left for the weekend in West Virginia: if there was anything timely, it was already utterly screwed before we ever found out there were newsletters to be delivered. This is all aside from the fact the uncollected papers on our porch advertised our absence to the entire neighbourhood, just as a stack of uncollected newspapers and mail would.
Anyway, my personal bitchiness aside, I delivered the newsletters. I intentionally chose an early morning on a weekend because despite generally liking my neighbourhood, I'm not very social with our neighbours. They're generally nice folks but I just don't need extra social entanglements. I already feel like I'm invading their private space and personal privacy by coming up to their door to drop a newsletter in their mail box or --worse-- the mail slot on their front door. Worst of all are the 2-3 houses which have vast glass entrances & surrounding windows: one particular house has so much street-facing glass that you can see directly to the backyard from the street. I feel like a peeping tom. Yes, it's not my fault they have huge windows with no curtains or blinds drawn, but the newsletter delivery makes me feel complicit in invading their privacy. And it also means they can see me, a severe problem if they're feeling chatty and I'm feeling cornered.
I prefer to drop the newsletter into their mailbox and move very quickly to the next house. I can delivery 55 newsletters in 30 minutes. Some folks are happy for the visit and want to talk. Since they seem me as the public face of the local civic association, they ask me for advice, for gossip, for news of the county council, for information from the state gov't and much, much more. Since I understand I'm the public face of the civic association by default, I try to be polite, informative and supportive. I urge them to attend the monthly association meetings, read the newsletter, contact the folks in the masthead for more info, check our web site, etc..
What I'm also trying very hard not to say is that (a) I don't care about the neighbour's leaves falling in their yard, (b) I haven't been able to attend an association meeting myself for a long time because of scheduling conflicts and other commitments, (c) I'm delivering newsletters because it's the least demanding task on a list presented to me in a moment of weakness and I'm only the secondary dammit and I have my own issues with the editors, and (d) I really need to deliver the rest of these newsletters before my patience, energy and time runs out.
Unlike the posties, however, I like the neighbourhood dogs. I never remember their humans, but I'm on good terms with nearly every dog in the area I've had the pleasure of meeting. The dark cloud attached to this silver lining is that the dogs in our neighourhood are pretty good watch dogs, barking as soon as they perceive a person on the walkway or the door of their house. Social dogs are kept by social people, so the moment the dogs make the humans aware that someone is stuffing a newsletter into their mail slot, the humans see it as an opportunity to chat and/or practise their english.
I've learned which are the "problem" houses over the past couple of years. I've also learned which gates squeak, which houses have mailslots and which have boxes, which box/slot flaps squeak and how far one may open them silently. I've also learned the best times at which to deliver newsletters for minimal contact or interaction. I've become a master of quiet mail delivery, sort of a newsletter ninja: I sneak onto the property, place the newsletter and vanish again into the void. They don't see me coming, they don't seem me leave. And all while keeping them informed of events in our neighbourhood.
This particular morning, my alarm woke me at 7:30 AM but I successfully ignored it for 15 minutes, enjoying a warm bed for just a little longer.
Once showered & dressed, I delivered the local civic association neighbourhood to the residents of my street. They've been sitting in our living room for almost two weeks. While I usually like to deliver them asap because (a) I hate having outstanding tasks on my to-do list and (b) activities which support community participation & connectedness are generally things I wish to support. The delay in delivery however was due to a very heavy work load, my periodic travel and my trivial bit of pique against the newsletter coordinator.
I'm supposed to be the secondary deliverer of newsletters in our area, not the primary; still, I seem to be the first person contacted by our newsletter editor & delivery volunteers. This isn't such a bad thing except that they're supposed to contact me first to ensure I'm actually able to deliver the newsletters. Of late, a stack has simply materialized on my doorstep with a post-it note attached. This last time, they showed up on a Friday afternoon after we had already left for the weekend in West Virginia: if there was anything timely, it was already utterly screwed before we ever found out there were newsletters to be delivered. This is all aside from the fact the uncollected papers on our porch advertised our absence to the entire neighbourhood, just as a stack of uncollected newspapers and mail would.
Anyway, my personal bitchiness aside, I delivered the newsletters. I intentionally chose an early morning on a weekend because despite generally liking my neighbourhood, I'm not very social with our neighbours. They're generally nice folks but I just don't need extra social entanglements. I already feel like I'm invading their private space and personal privacy by coming up to their door to drop a newsletter in their mail box or --worse-- the mail slot on their front door. Worst of all are the 2-3 houses which have vast glass entrances & surrounding windows: one particular house has so much street-facing glass that you can see directly to the backyard from the street. I feel like a peeping tom. Yes, it's not my fault they have huge windows with no curtains or blinds drawn, but the newsletter delivery makes me feel complicit in invading their privacy. And it also means they can see me, a severe problem if they're feeling chatty and I'm feeling cornered.
I prefer to drop the newsletter into their mailbox and move very quickly to the next house. I can delivery 55 newsletters in 30 minutes. Some folks are happy for the visit and want to talk. Since they seem me as the public face of the local civic association, they ask me for advice, for gossip, for news of the county council, for information from the state gov't and much, much more. Since I understand I'm the public face of the civic association by default, I try to be polite, informative and supportive. I urge them to attend the monthly association meetings, read the newsletter, contact the folks in the masthead for more info, check our web site, etc..
What I'm also trying very hard not to say is that (a) I don't care about the neighbour's leaves falling in their yard, (b) I haven't been able to attend an association meeting myself for a long time because of scheduling conflicts and other commitments, (c) I'm delivering newsletters because it's the least demanding task on a list presented to me in a moment of weakness and I'm only the secondary dammit and I have my own issues with the editors, and (d) I really need to deliver the rest of these newsletters before my patience, energy and time runs out.
Unlike the posties, however, I like the neighbourhood dogs. I never remember their humans, but I'm on good terms with nearly every dog in the area I've had the pleasure of meeting. The dark cloud attached to this silver lining is that the dogs in our neighourhood are pretty good watch dogs, barking as soon as they perceive a person on the walkway or the door of their house. Social dogs are kept by social people, so the moment the dogs make the humans aware that someone is stuffing a newsletter into their mail slot, the humans see it as an opportunity to chat and/or practise their english.
I've learned which are the "problem" houses over the past couple of years. I've also learned which gates squeak, which houses have mailslots and which have boxes, which box/slot flaps squeak and how far one may open them silently. I've also learned the best times at which to deliver newsletters for minimal contact or interaction. I've become a master of quiet mail delivery, sort of a newsletter ninja: I sneak onto the property, place the newsletter and vanish again into the void. They don't see me coming, they don't seem me leave. And all while keeping them informed of events in our neighbourhood.
