Every now and then, I get a Valpak in the mail -- you know, one of those envelopes stuffed with coupons and ads for services that I will never need or want. I got one today. On the front, there's an ad for CSI:NY, featuring Gary Sinise's smirking mug, and a sweepstakes promotion: "You could win a trip to New York City." I'm not even going to try entering. No one ever wins these things anyway.
Some examples of what's in the envelope: Introducing Dial-4-Limo. American Laser Centers: Hair Removal and Skin Rejuvenation. Enjoy Great Pizza at a Great Price. Free Groceries! Save Up To 20% Off Our Computer & Manual Business Checks! Why Settle for Cable?
And then, a true gem among the recycling fodder: Free Dinner Entrée - Buy one dinner entrée, get 2nd one free. It's a coupon for one of our favorite restaurants, Mottsu, the Japanese place across the street. The only thing I don't understand is why they'd bother putting the acute accent over the letter "e" in the word "entrée" and not write a grammatically correct promotional line.
Showing posts with label mail. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mail. Show all posts
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
No forwarding address
For a New York resident, here's a not-so-surprising statistic: Only a third of New York City homes are owner-occupied, compared to two-thirds in the rest of the nation, says the Census Bureau. That means that, like Sarah and me, most New Yorkers rent the homes they're currently living in.
We've lived in our apartment for three years, but many people I know have lived in theirs much less longer. I find one particular side effect of this urban nomadism in our mailbox every day: We frequently receive mail addressed not to us, but to the previous resident of the apartment. Today, for example, a postcard came for Amy D. from Joseph S. Tanen, Violinmaker. The postcard invites Amy to visit the soon-to-be-opened Tanen shop at 3111 Broadway, next to the Manhattan School of Music.
So at some point in the past, our apartment was occupied by a violinist named Amy. Did she practice on her instrument here in this very room where I'm typing this? Was she an amateur who simply annoyed the neighbors? Is she responsible for our broken doorbell, the one that has never worked since we moved in? Or maybe she made the hole in our screen window -- the one that lets in flies and bees in the summer -- with an overly enthusiastic stroke of her bow. Only Amy knows.
When we move out of the apartment next July, someone else is going to move in and start receiving our mail. Not the bills and the letters of correspondence and the magazines, of course; we'll make sure we leave a forwarding address for those. But perhaps the catalogs from Musician's Friend. And Guitar Center. And Music123, Zzounds, Sam Ash Music, and Disc Makers.
What will these people assume about me? Only they'll know.
We've lived in our apartment for three years, but many people I know have lived in theirs much less longer. I find one particular side effect of this urban nomadism in our mailbox every day: We frequently receive mail addressed not to us, but to the previous resident of the apartment. Today, for example, a postcard came for Amy D. from Joseph S. Tanen, Violinmaker. The postcard invites Amy to visit the soon-to-be-opened Tanen shop at 3111 Broadway, next to the Manhattan School of Music.
So at some point in the past, our apartment was occupied by a violinist named Amy. Did she practice on her instrument here in this very room where I'm typing this? Was she an amateur who simply annoyed the neighbors? Is she responsible for our broken doorbell, the one that has never worked since we moved in? Or maybe she made the hole in our screen window -- the one that lets in flies and bees in the summer -- with an overly enthusiastic stroke of her bow. Only Amy knows.
When we move out of the apartment next July, someone else is going to move in and start receiving our mail. Not the bills and the letters of correspondence and the magazines, of course; we'll make sure we leave a forwarding address for those. But perhaps the catalogs from Musician's Friend. And Guitar Center. And Music123, Zzounds, Sam Ash Music, and Disc Makers.
What will these people assume about me? Only they'll know.
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