September 5, 2007
“Hello?” I said as I answered the phone.
“Did you buy something from the Arizona Diamondbacks?” Trina replied without even giving my hello a response.
“Who is this?” I asked. The silence on the other end made me realize that she might still be a little ticked off about yesterday and that I probably need to quit messing around. “No, I didn’t order anything from the Diamondbacks that I can remember. Why do you ask?”
“A large envelope came for you today and the return address says it is from the Arizona Diamondbacks.” Trina said. I racked my brain trying to remember if I had ordered anything lately from the team without Trina knowing about it.
“No, I don’t think I ordered anything from the Diamondbacks.” I replied. Not that I haven’t ordered something from the team without Trina knowing it; I just didn’t remember doing that this time.
“Can I open it?” Trina asked.
“No, it is a federal offense for you to open mail when it is not addressed to you.” I answered. There are two things you don’t mess with. You never open someone else’s mail and you don’t remove those tags off your mattress. Breaking either of these rules is sure to result in chaos and anarchy and I don’t want to be blamed for that. Dejected Trina hung up the phone. I knew what would happen next. I would be getting calls every hour asking when I was going to be home and whether she could open the package. I’ve played this game before.