J-Mail.

Two days ago I recieved a tiny thin envelope envelope with a large red stamp on the back, "This corresponsedence is forwarded from the ______ County Sheriff's Office and Correctional Center. The contents may not have been evaluated and the Sherriff's Office is not responsible for the substance or content of the enclosed material."

I am the reluctant recipient of jail mail. Aren't I special?

Who might this letter be from? Why Ol' Blue Eyes, of course.

Now, I had been informed by his mother last week that I would be recieving this letter. I didn't actually speak to her though, considering the history that I have had with her son, I try to avoid the uncomfortable telephone calls if I can. It is much easier, albeit cowardly, to trade voicemails. So I had a good four days to ponder the contents of the letter. It did not contain what I thought that it would though. I was expecting a sob story about how he got drunk and rowdy. In reality it was nothing of the sort. It was quite comical actually, because it was the classic "I told you so" scenario. The best part is that it is not my problem. I don't have to worry about getting money to bail him out or taking off work to go to court or anything of the sort. It is glorious and wonderful to be able to say, "It is not my problem."

Sad to say, this is not the first j-mail that I have recieved. I find it interesting though, because every time, he writes of these profound things that he has realized while incarcerated. However, once he is out again, all that seems to go out the window.

Maybe this time will be different.

Probably not.

I look at brown-eyed babe and I realize how right I was in leaving. She is a joyful terror of a toddler who is completely oblivious to the mess that her father is, and I wouldn't have it any other way.