(no subject)
You know what's silly? The post office that's closest to me is the ONLY one that doesn't process passport applications. So I am left to call the next closest one:
“Thank you for calling the Miller Rd Post Office. Please listen carefully as I rattle off thirteen different things that do not apply to you, and then inform you that you need to call a totally different number for passport services: ***-***-7244.”
“Thank you for calling Passport Services. Unfortunately, the Princess is another Post Office, so you must dial ***-***-7225 to apply for a passport!”
...really? I struck gold with the last phone number, though, except the guy put me on hold to go look for his log book. Then he sneezed really loud into the receiver (and apologized), but good heavens. The USPS makes everything a goddamn production, and this has nothing to do with it being the holiday season.
I still haven't set exact dates (SORRY SISTER), as I'm trying to figure out how to coordinate flight stuff with my plow guy. He lived in New Zealand for about 4 or 5 years, and he wants to fly down to visit all his old friends. If he didn't have a 1 year old daughter here I would expect him to not return with me! But he's a terrifying mountain of a man that is also a sweetheart, so safest international travel buddy I can think of.
So once all this goofy paperwork nonsense is out of way and travel plans are set in stone, I'll be in Australia for two weeks to hang out with my radical sister. And it will be radical. Yes. Hell yes. HELL. FUCKING. YES.