BRAIN DRAIN

The street on which I live in the Big Apple happens to be the UPS staging area for deliveries in our neighborhood. Every day there are one or two of their trucks parked on the street, usually with the compartment doors open and a delivery person scurrying about seeing the many packages off to their destinations. In fact, the presence of the folks in brown is such a part of day to day life in these parts that most of us who reside here already know our usual delivery lady, often popping our heads into her truck just to ask if a package we’re expecting is already on hand.

I never gave much thought to how familiar we’ve become with the UPS people until I came home after doing some errands the other day to find a note posted on our building door.

On closer inspection:

Notwithstanding my tendency to misplace my keys, the message wasn’t meant for me. Still, it’s oddly comforting to know that if I ever do lose them at least one other person can be trusted to return them should they be found. Something tells me that there’s a great advert for door-to-door delivery here just waiting to be made.