Aside from friends and family, who knows more about you than your mail carrier and your pharmacist?

My mail carrier sees me in the morning, looking unpresentable at least three times a week. He's seen me wearing facial masks, hair in a towel, he knows what I sleep in. He's seen my overnight guests.

He's well aware I have two little dogs that go apoplectic when he approaches. He certainly knows their names by now, as I scold them each time they throw their tiny bodies at the door.

He's well aware of my interests, based on the ludicrous volume of magazines and catalogs I receive. He knows I like rock music, used books from Amazon and fine bedding. He's delivered dubious-looking letters from the government, court subpoenas and sympathy cards. He knows of my friendly correspondence with the IRS. He's seen the final-notice reminders when I ditched my subscription to Entertainment Weekly. He must think I am of discriminating taste in trash as I kept my In Touch Weekly coming.

He knows when I'm out of town. He's most likely been able to ascertain my housekeeping shortcomings. I like to let at least three Southwest Journals accumulate in the yard before picking them up. He knows I need to clean my porch windows but is too polite to suggest it. He knew about my sabbatical from work last year and knew when I had returned without ever having a conversation about it. I believe we exchanged a "Glad you're back on air" through the screen window.

He has insight into my humor based on my welcome mat that reads, "There is no reason for you to be here."

Meanwhile, for me, walking into my local pharmacy is akin to Norm from Cheers: "Looch!"

My pharmacist knows about every rash, pulled muscle, migraine, depression and insomnia issue I've struggled with. He also knows of my family-planning decisions. He can keep tabs on how often I see doctors and shrinks. He knows I had to switch from Ambien to Temazepam, as I stupidly found myself revealing to him that one morning I woke up to check my email to see that I had ordered a sofa and a bra online in my sleep.

The more personal my prescription that I'm picking up, I feel I'm entitled to ask him one personal question:

"Thanks for the emergency refill of Zoloft … Where were you born?"

"Those pinkeye drops really worked … Were you breastfed as a baby?"

"I'm so glad they make a generic Imotrex … Have you ever been cheated on?"

Who are the people in your life who know a lot about you without really knowing you? What would you like to ask them?

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