Aquatom1968 to the rescue… again… and again… and again!

Being part of the super-hero community isn’t all glitz and glamour, you know. As well as throwing out the rubbish, cleaning and tidying up the top secret headquarters beneath Aquatom Mansion, doing it all again in Aquatom Mansion, leading my double-life in work and other social situations (taking great care not to reveal the real me), and now having a Second Life persona as well, things tend to get a little hectic. How many people do you know who have a double life and a second life at the same time? Not that I’ve actually been to Second Life for a few days, but it’s still there – and I’m probably still there on that rooftop too! And as well as doing all that, I have to make sure that I look good.

No, it isn’t easy always looking good. It is something I manage to pull off easily, even if I do say so myself. Usually I have to. Say it, that is, not look it. It’s the hair, you see. It needs cutting. Pruning. Molding into shape. It does look good when I style it – I hasten to add – but any major change in circumstance, such as walking through a door, or sneezing, and the hair bear bunch look returns. And there is no way you can hold a secret identity for long when your hair looks like that. I remember being in school once, in a science lesson, and we had to put our hands on these brass-like ball things which carried electricity through them (I can’t think of the name right now, and don’t want to look it up – it isn’t that important!) and it made everyone’s hair stand on end. Mine does that without the electricity in a gently breeze…

I think of the energy that is flowing through me and my hair when it is like that. As I try to be positive and feel good most of the time, I like to think that positive energy is leaving my body, and being absorbed into the world around me. I’m trying to be a positive generator, but maybe sometimes I’m passing on a little too much feel good energy and not leaving enough for myself. Which is why I feel tired, develop spots, then get colds, then sneezes, and then bad hair. See – everything turns full circle again!

Now, coincidentally, here is another example of things turning full circle. A letter was delivered to my parents’ home, their address was on the envelope but not their name. A bold message across the top of the letter said “DO NOT REDIRECT! RETURN TO SENDER”. Being the helpful citizen that I am, I wrote onto the envelope the very useful, and friendly words “Not at this address” and popped it back into the post box. A few days later, a second letter arrived, addressed to the same person. The return address was the same on the reverse, as was the style of the envelope. The same message was also blazoned across the top. Again, I wrote the same as before, and returned it. A few days passed, and yet another letter was received. Exactly the same. I wrote on this envelope, in equally bold capital letters “NOT KNOWN AT THIS ADDRESS!!!!!!!!!” and returned it. And today, yet another letter has been received. I’m starting to get the feeling that the people either do not believe me that this person does not live there, or are incredibly stupid. Harsh, I know. On today’s envelope, I wrote “NOT KNOWN AT THIS ADDRESS! THIS IS THE FOURTH LETTER RETURNED!” Somehow, I don’t think this message will get through. Only time will tell. If another one is received, I may just pull my hair out – which is something I really do not want to do. What is annoying is the return address is a postal box, so we can’t phone them to tell the – sorry, ask them nicely – to stop (*)… but somebody must read returned mail envelopes, surely to goodness?!?! I can see this company becoming my arch enemy if they carry on. I don’t do arch enemies.

Other spandex-clad super-heroes get themselves involved in other-worldly, parallel-dimensional and intriguing cases and mysteries. I get caught up in a groundhog day style postal problem. But, in true groundhog day style, I deal with it slightly differently every time. Just doing it feels good, so I can’t complain.

I’m thinking about the next time a letter arrives, and what messages I can write on the envelope. I may go for poetry. I may draw a picture to highlight the name is wrong. I may stick cut out letters from a newspaper to get the message across.

(*) What is really frustrating is the cost of each pointless delivery has to be met by someone. The PO box belongs to the finance department of the local council. We tried to call the council to ask them to stop sending the letters, but all they could ask was ‘what does the letter say?’ You don’t open mail that is addressed to someone else, do you? You return to sender, as they ask. And they send it back. Again… and again… and again!