Dear Mr Postman

I like how reliable you are. I received notice on the night of the 11th that my package has been sent out and I was sure you would be here, if not on 12th, then most definitely on the 13th. I have that much faith in you.

I waited for you the whole morning. I was up before the sun was up (actually I wasn't in bed yet but it's about the same) and even made the effort to get decently clothed in anticipation of your arrival. I simply don't like opening the door to strangers and looking like I've been slinking around in dishevelment.

Sometime mid-morning, I decided to take a nap. I figured that since I was appropriately dressed it wouldn't harm to look sleepy-eyed. What's a little judgment, right?

I woke up at noon. Checked the door for the note that would indicate that I was so lost in slumber I failed to hear you knock. Nothing. Mild disappointment. I began to doubt you.

By 2 o'clock I was so engrossed in my tasks it sort of slipped my mind that I was waiting for you.

I went to the bathroom.

Did you really have to choose that moment to rap at the door? That three-minute sliver of the whole time I was waiting for you like some forlorn mistress? I heard your gruff "postman!" bark loud and clear. All I could do was lift my head in exasperation.

I trusted you. Yet time and time again you do this to me. The truth is I'm already numb to this pain. I will just have to join the snaking queue at the post office tomorrow morning to collect my parcel.

I hope you think about what you've done. Just because you visit homes only when everyone is out at work doesn't mean each and every one of your recipients will never be around. If only you could get past your cynicism and wait just one or two minutes for someone to run to the door. You would have one less package to lug around and have been greeted with one more sunny smile.

This is heartbreaking. I need to learn to stop trusting you.