As I’m writing this blog, my mind is now trying to decompress and come down several levels from the altered state it spent the last hour in – all very unnecessarily thanks to an inept postal carrier. Here’s how it went down… 6:30 pm and mail delivery is very very late. Mail carrier comes up many floors and is urgently banging on my door for me to sign for an important delivery. They NEVER do this, always being too lazy and leaving a receipt in the box that I then have to go to the post office to claim. Mail guy makes a big production about this package and I just habitually sign for it, assuming that even though I don’t recognize it it must indeed be my mail. I carry it in and with vague interest habitually open it up until getting it out of the box and discovering that…it’s a small drone. I go through several stages of mentally denying that it would actually be a drone, being very certain I didn’t order one and thinking of alternate story lines as to what might actually be happening. Unable to effectively do that I study the box and printed material further and have to fully admit that yes, I have just received a small drone in the mail that I’m certain I didn’t order. It’s an IPad controlled machine but appears to be a totally legit mini drone. At first I thought it was a children’s toy but on further inspection I realized it wasn’t. So then my mind races and I come up with several possible scenarios as to why this was happening. Maybe…                                                                                                        1. It’s video and audio surveillance disguised as a gift.                               2. It’s an attempt to frame me for receiving some sort of rogue contraband. 3. It’s a bizarre ruse meant to scare me (which is rather useless as I’m  well conditioned to this sort of thing by now.) 4. It’s a joke.                   5.It’s a bomb or chemical weapons diffuser.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               The return address is from a very long Russian name and the location is not far from Alexandria, VA – so I’m puzzled as to why the Russian name – as in infamous Russian sleeper cell (read: uh-oh!) yet CIA location. So I decide to promptly file a report with my local FBI to make an immediate record that I received this and have no connection whatsoever to its likely nefarious origins, whatever they may be. I call immediately and am like “Hey…got bomb squad?” insisting they take a report on this to make some record that whatever it is I have no connection to it. But they won’t come and get it. They marvel over it and are genuinely puzzled but feel no need to pursue it any further and suggest I report it to postal inspections mail fraud?…Mail fraud? I call the postal inspector and am told to call back in the morning and simply report it as mail fraud. Doh… I mean like the thing could detonate in the next few hours or be filming some bizarre intimate part of my life for a control room somewhere or I could be on my way to Gitmo by dawn or…Mail fraud? I look at it further and it really is a drone, not a toy as I first thought. But then suddenly I just happen to notice it’s not even addressed to me at all but to some guy in another apartment. This never entered my mind to check the address because it had been brought to me as my mail and I had to sign to receive it. So I totally assumed it was my mail, not a moronic mail carrier. So then I get this deflating decompression aeration thing happening in my brain as I realize that whatever it is it’s someone else’s problem and I just took it downstairs and left it on his doorstep as no one was home. End of story. Totally. I hope. Did I need any part of this situation? Absolutely not. Do I care why my neighbor is receiving drone mail from long Russian names suggestive of sleeper cells? Nope. I’m unloading this whole thing on his freakin’ doorstep. End of story. (Hopefully!)