Tonight I came home to a long, narrow box sitting beside my door. Three cats braced it. "Wrong shape to be the Xango juice, and I've already gotten this month's shipment. Mom's box of books was in the mailbox, perfectly arriving on the last day the kids have to show up for the '04-'05 school year. I'm too broke to have ordered anything else. It isn't Christmas, nor my birthday, nor do I have a kookie secret admirer."
So, I got out of the car and took a look. Very light. Sent by UPS. No return company. Wait a minute! My name's not BRENDA... and the address was 1741, whereas I'm 1471... "Ah, ha! A dyslexic UPS driver!" Out came the newly arrived Plot Map for the county, and, sure enough, a neighbor down by the big bridge is the un-recipient. But nobody there is named Brenda, either... There's a Brenda with the right last name in Seymour. So, what's right? The name, or the address?
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