Bit sad that I still get a sense of excitement when the postman delivers letters to my house. It's usually short lived: a leaflet enticing me to sell my old clothes by the kilo (I'm sure I've got a heavy, itchy cable sweater somewhere) and an array of bills. The initial feeling of 'ah, someone's written' is replaced by 'blimey, when's payday?'
That excitement over with for the day, I then turn to my email to see if anyone cares and wants to say hello. Like many people, I get a lot of emails, many via Twitter, and these I love reading. Turning on my computer and checking my spam, is a different task. Today, I had 45 spam emails. My life expectancy wouldn't allow for me to need that many pre-approved credit card applications, dates with men that the internet swears are all gorgeous, todger enhancement, AND parcels that someone had tried to deliver but couldn't so would I just provide all of my personal details via email for its redelivery?
Problem is, I'm not expecting a parcel. Unless of course it's the member extension I ordered via the internet. These people would have to get up really early to catch me out.