Last Week It Was The UPS Guy, And Now It’s My Mailman. I Have Issues.

Last week, I fessed up about my ridiculous relationship with the UPS guy, and I thought that was about it for my mail-related issues. It turns out I was wrong about that, though. Apparently, I not only put on make-up for the UPS guy, but I also feel compelled to lie to the mailman about my work schedule. I have issues.

I have issues

Being that I primarily work from home, and, as we’ve previously covered, I often work throughout most of my day in greater and lesser states of dishevelment, I am not always as showered and good-looking as I am when I leave the house. I was in such an unshowered state this afternoon when the mailman knocked on my door to give me a package that was too large for my box.

And that’s no pun, dirty bird.


Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hi. I have some oversized mail for you,” the mailman said.

I peered through a crack in the door and LIED, “You always seem to come just when I’m waking up.”

“I do,” he said, laughing.

“I work the late shift,” I LIED AGAIN.

“Sorry for waking you up.”

“No problem,” I said. “I don’t sleep past one in the afternoon, anyway.”


I wake up early in the morning with my husband, and I most definitely do not work this so-called late shift, which means that I’ve moved from doing a slap-dash make-up and hair job to avoid scaring the UPS guy to outright lying about an alternate life story to apologize for myself to the mailman. What’s next? A wig and a fake nose? Elevated shoes and a set of flipper teeth?

I know that there is a simple fix for my growing issues with delivery people, which would be to start showering in the morning rather than at four in the afternoon, but that’s a whole shift of priorities from coffee and naps to productivity, and I just don’t know that that is going to happen.

Do you lie to strangers to cover your own butt? Please say yes. Back me up, here.

About Schmutzie

Schmutzie can most commonly be found at, but she's also the founder of Ninjamatics and the Grace in Small Things social network in her ongoing efforts to make stuff on the internet and spread things that don't suck.

She gets social on Twitter, Facebook, Flickr, and StumbleUpon.


  1. Dara says:

    I so get this.
    I have, however, figured out how to work it to my advantage. When the Jehovah’s Witnesses come a-knocking I greet them at the door like something the cat coughed up and they never ask to come in.
    Shower earlier and grow a backbone, those are the solutions I need.

    Twitter Name:

    • schmutzie says:

      Your JWs must not have as strong a constitution as the ones around here. They don’t seem to mind what I look like one bit and have gone so far as to keep coming back after told them to shove the literature under the door if it was so important to them on their must have been tenth revisit.

      Twitter Name:

  2. Melissa says:

    Bahaha! I do that in the checkout lane when I’m buying something awkward. And I have done that to the mail-lady once or twice before. I usually don’t even answer the door though, but since I’ve known the mail-lady for probably 20 years she just leaves the packages on the doorstep anyway.

    • schmutzie says:

      After I wrote this article, the mailman came knocking again yesterday and chuckled when he saw me. “Did I get you out of bed again?” he said. “Yes,” I said, “My late shift is late.”

      My late shift eating Girl Guide cookies while watching Saturday Night Live reruns. Ha.

      Twitter Name:

  3. Kai says:

    This is great and completely justifies my own behaviour.. I LOVE those Nerds lollies (I have the palate of a 12 year old boy) and my local petrol station is the only place that stocks them. They often have a 2 for $3 deal so I buy two every time, and shake my head at the attendant and say “Kids, hey?”. Yes, I totally pretend to have kids just to justify my addiction to what are basically legal crack. I guarantee that all of those guys are totally onto me.

    Twitter Name:

  4. Four pm is my normal shower time given a choice. (I try to get dressed before supper). You need to move to our village. You can even go out on the street in front of your house looking like you just got up, at any time of the day. But you MUST look smashing to go to the corner store.

  5. Dude! Do this all the time.

    Twitter Name:

  6. Alexandra says:

    Oh, this was so wonderfully funny.

    From the package too big for your box, to the “got some oversized mail for you.”

    Yes,I am 12 years old.

    Thank you for this: this laugh. This morning, I’ve just spent an hour on blogs that “say something” : that talk of things that are important to the heart.

    I thought, what am I doing: writing silly puns and humor.

    I should just forget it.

    Then, I come here, and laugh: and I remember. I remember why I strive for the humor: to make someone who’s got tears in their eyes burst into laughter instead.

    And that’s why. Thanks for this today.

    Twitter Name:

    • schmutzie says:

      Your comment means so much to me today. I wonder, too, sometimes what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. It’s good to step back and take a look at what we do, but it can be hard to do it with any clarity, especially when we are so hard on ourselves.

      You just made me remember.

      Thank YOU for this today.

      Twitter Name:

  7. Kristina says:

    I do this all the time! If I were a wise person I would use my inclination to crack wise about what I must believe are my shortcomings as an opportunity to examine what makes me anxious and how to fix it. I am not a wise person, however.

    See: Yesterday. Somebody asked me what I was up to now and I hackled up and said “I have a day job.” When I should have said, “I’m a writer! I have a food blog/running documentary of mental illness site where I burn things and overuse Instagram.”

    Dammit, there I go again.

    Twitter Name:

  8. My biggest issues is trying to NOT let out that obnoxious preteen giggle when the hot UPS man comes a knocking. I look and sound like an idiot daily to him.

    Love this post.

    Twitter Name:

  9. I’m fully expecting a post from you next week about explaining to the newspaper man about your medical condition that makes you look disheveled.

    My lie is also work-related, kind of. Whenever any solicitors, gutter-cleaners, etc. come to the door, I lie and say, “I’m working.” I consider procrastination through Honey Badgers and blog reading, work, as well.

    Twitter Name:

  10. All the damn time.
    I don’t mean to, and normally, I’m an awful liar. In fact, I think I’m an awful liar even when I’m lying to strangers. And what’s worse? I can recognize it when strangers lie to me. (Or I think I can).

    The ballet moms are the worst. Or rather, I’m the worst with them. We all sit around as our kids twirl their little tippy toes off talking, and I tell them the most … unusual things. Things I would never EVER tell someone who actually knew me.

    Twitter Name:

Speak Your Mind