Jaw. Dropping
No, really, jaw dropping.
Ok, to clarify something: Two, the guy on Monday -- the guy who failed to deliver either the package or the certified letter, and decided to just leave me a pink slip for the certified letter in the mailbox rather than walking up to my door and knocking, is our regular mail guy, who has seen me use my trike, knows that I don't drive, and has seen me in my wheelchair. The guy who delivered the package yesterday and did come and knock on the door is not the usual mail guy and thinks I use a cane. The guy who made a special trip out to deliver the certified letter, also not the regular mail guy.
Ok, then. I spent the morning under the cheerful impression that I was not going to have to post anything else about the post office today. I saw the post office guy -- our usual, regular mail guy -- drive up, and put something in the mailbox, and then stop for a minute, writing on something, and, so that we are all clear on this, making NO ATTEMPT WHATSOEVER TO COME TO MY DOOR. He did not even get out of the truck.
Hmm I thought.
But common sense -- or what I thought was common sense - prevailed. After all, no one would do this twice in one week, would they? Plus, we weren't expecting any other packages or important letters. So no big deal; he was probably just, er, filling out his holiday cards or something.
The cynical among you are already skipping ahead to the next part of the story. Sure enough, when I checked the mail, I found one nice piece of junk mail from Southwest Airlines vastly overestimating my income (but I guess it's nice that somebody thinks I'm rich), one nice package from The Baum Bugle (which I wasn't expecting this week at all, so, nice surprise) and....
....a pink slip informing me that I need to go pick up an insured package from the Colonial Drive location. Yes, the same location that we have already determined I CAN'T GET TO.
I have no idea what this package even is -- to add to my irritation, the usual information about the return address is missing - since I'm not expecting anything. I do know that I'm not going to deal with this until Friday, and that I'll be calling the local office directly instead of trying to deal with that 800 customer service again.
#####
In somewhat related news this meant that instead of getting banking/groceries done yesterday, they had to be done today in the chaos of the day before Thanksgiving shopping, which did not improve my mood. Also, while I'm venting, ok, I get the issue with acorn squash and pumpkin this year - although I should have thought of that before choosing to serve fig and pecan stuffed acorn squash tomorrow - but what on earth is going on with the prices for pecans???? That dish accidentally just became by FAR the most expensive item that we are serving tomorrow.
I did think about changing it, but as I did, I noticed that I was getting, for want of a better word, "floaty" -- not exactly lightheaded, but having a difficult time concentrating and reading labels. (In related news it took me forever to locate the nutmeg. Not that the nutmeg was difficult to find, just I had a hard time with it. Fortunately the other necessary spices are on hand.) So I figured I'd just splurge a bit on the pecans. It's Thanksgiving, after all. Also, in good news, Nonni is now making their lemon biscotti again, and this makes the world All Well.
Ok, to clarify something: Two, the guy on Monday -- the guy who failed to deliver either the package or the certified letter, and decided to just leave me a pink slip for the certified letter in the mailbox rather than walking up to my door and knocking, is our regular mail guy, who has seen me use my trike, knows that I don't drive, and has seen me in my wheelchair. The guy who delivered the package yesterday and did come and knock on the door is not the usual mail guy and thinks I use a cane. The guy who made a special trip out to deliver the certified letter, also not the regular mail guy.
Ok, then. I spent the morning under the cheerful impression that I was not going to have to post anything else about the post office today. I saw the post office guy -- our usual, regular mail guy -- drive up, and put something in the mailbox, and then stop for a minute, writing on something, and, so that we are all clear on this, making NO ATTEMPT WHATSOEVER TO COME TO MY DOOR. He did not even get out of the truck.
Hmm I thought.
But common sense -- or what I thought was common sense - prevailed. After all, no one would do this twice in one week, would they? Plus, we weren't expecting any other packages or important letters. So no big deal; he was probably just, er, filling out his holiday cards or something.
The cynical among you are already skipping ahead to the next part of the story. Sure enough, when I checked the mail, I found one nice piece of junk mail from Southwest Airlines vastly overestimating my income (but I guess it's nice that somebody thinks I'm rich), one nice package from The Baum Bugle (which I wasn't expecting this week at all, so, nice surprise) and....
....a pink slip informing me that I need to go pick up an insured package from the Colonial Drive location. Yes, the same location that we have already determined I CAN'T GET TO.
I have no idea what this package even is -- to add to my irritation, the usual information about the return address is missing - since I'm not expecting anything. I do know that I'm not going to deal with this until Friday, and that I'll be calling the local office directly instead of trying to deal with that 800 customer service again.
#####
In somewhat related news this meant that instead of getting banking/groceries done yesterday, they had to be done today in the chaos of the day before Thanksgiving shopping, which did not improve my mood. Also, while I'm venting, ok, I get the issue with acorn squash and pumpkin this year - although I should have thought of that before choosing to serve fig and pecan stuffed acorn squash tomorrow - but what on earth is going on with the prices for pecans???? That dish accidentally just became by FAR the most expensive item that we are serving tomorrow.
I did think about changing it, but as I did, I noticed that I was getting, for want of a better word, "floaty" -- not exactly lightheaded, but having a difficult time concentrating and reading labels. (In related news it took me forever to locate the nutmeg. Not that the nutmeg was difficult to find, just I had a hard time with it. Fortunately the other necessary spices are on hand.) So I figured I'd just splurge a bit on the pecans. It's Thanksgiving, after all. Also, in good news, Nonni is now making their lemon biscotti again, and this makes the world All Well.