...After lurking a long, long time, I have to contribute this one,as it just cracked me up:
I work two jobs and attend school full time, so it's sometimes tough to get to the post office. Thankfully, I can drive "my soldiers/sailors" packages to my mother's home on a Sunday and know she'll send 'em out on Monday.
Well, Dad called me today to report this one from yesterday:
He was upstairs in the study, when he heard my mother yell out, "Michael! Michael! The kitchen's on fire! Get the mail! The mail!"
She was referring to saving the soldiers'/sailors' care packages. Heh. Hooyah, Mom.
Mead
Ps... ;) The packages survived. Dad put out the small oven fire.