You may be wondering why there is a picture of trash on my floor with my beslippered foot next to it. The foot is to give you a sense of the scale of my failure at life, which is just millimeters short of cosmic.
The trash down there is actually all the mail that has been sitting in a box for the past 2 months or so.
The box of which I speak is at ground-level, by the set of stairs that I only recently started using to go up-and-down from the apartment. It is, apparently, the preferred alternative to the mail slot that empties into a different box inside my apartment door. I was not aware of this until today, partially because nobody bothered to tell me "by the way, your mail box is here" when I moved in, but mostly because, as previously mentioned, I fail at life.
So BIG-ASS apologies to Drago, Maria, Jenni, and Jacqui for totally not acknowledging the things y'all mailed me back in August. And now I have solved the mystery of the missing internet bill . . . I am so glad I live in Japan, where the customer is, in fact, always right, even if they neglect a payment.
