Evidence that I have too much time on my hands
We've been receiving quite a bit of mail meant for the former tenants of our apartment. First some mail from a local church addressed to one "Mary Braden*" arrived. Shortly thereafter, we got a copy of "Whiskey Advocate," addressed to a "Chase McCollum." I commented to Scott that clearly, Mary was praying for Chase's pickled soul. I had their sad, doomed relationship all figured out. No wonder they moved!
But then the next week our mailbox included a Coupon Valu-Pak for "Tiffany Nashimoro." Then it occurred to me: a prematurely aborted season of Real World: Brooklyn took place in this apartment.
It would have been the saddest season ever. Those poor kids, cramming themselves into a mere two-bedroom, nary a jacuzzi nor sex swing in sight (they have sex swings in the Real World, right?). Trapped together on a quiet, family-oriented block. Why weren't they in Williamsburg? Who did this to them?
Obviously Mary was the awkward, sheltered Catholic girl, living away from her parents for the first time--and in New York City, no less! And we all know that Chase was the womanizer with a burgeoning drinking problem and a deep-seated anger even he couldn't fathom. Then of course there's shopaholic Tiffany, whose compulsive spending masked an insecurity borne from her slight but noticeable difference in leg length.
A few days after Tiffany's mail showed up, we received health-insurance correspondence for yet another former resident: Erick Ramirez.
Now I just think someone's toying with me.
Next I predict we'll be receiving mail addressed to Ntozake Hoyes-Zimmerman (talented spoken-word performer of African-Jamaican-German descent, haunted by childhood kidnapping) and of course Brock Dodgson (wealthy Southern boy whose family can't accept his bisexual identity). I'll let you know what happens.
*(I changed the names, but only slightly. Only slightly!)










June 15, 2010
Reader Comments (24)
This has happened to me when I've moved, but I was never this funny about it.
It was just wrong mail to me, not brilliant blog fodder, as you've made this to be.
We have lived in our house for seven years and still get dividend reports meant for the (long dead) previous owner and calls/mail for someone I don't think was ever living at our house but who apparently does not pay her bills and frequently missed court dates.
We don't get interesting mail, but at my old apartment in VA, I used to occasionally get collect calls from the Virginia Correctional Facility for Angela from an inmate named "Marty". I did not accept the charges.
You seem worlds happier, by the way, and I'm so glad.
It is kind of fun to imagine what the former tenants were like and up to though. I look forward to hearing what other sorts of interesting items show up at your apartment.
One week after we moved in, police came by, looking for former tenants (outstanding warrants!).
One month later, mail from a currently incarcerated person started showing up in the mailbox (he was convicted of murder).
And then we found counterfeit money in the fireplace.
I dig in the garden with my fingers crossed, because finding human remains seem the next logical step.
Oh--the worst was when I called up Capital One to ask them to stop sending credit card solicitations to the person who didn't live here and they said that since I was not that person I couldn't make that request--even though it WAS my address! The. nerve. Like someone's going to magically sign up for a credit card if they just keep sending them! It turns out the only way to get them to stop sending them is by using the Return to Sender method described above. Such efficiency, eh?