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Friday, August 12, 2011

I can’t be a paragon of self-control EVERY day

I’m blaming PMS, though that might be stretching the definition as I am an oldish woman with only one ovary. (Was that more than you wanted to know? Oops!)

Yesterday evening I had a small package to mail. Correction- I had the contents of a small package to mail. It was getting late, so I ran to the post office to use one of their flat rate boxes and the “Self-Service” mailing station. (You know, that scale thingy that spits out the correct postage after it weighs your stuff and you answer 10 questions about your package that range from “Are you trying to send jello across state lines, because that is discouraged?” to “Would you like insurance for this package? Really? Because sometimes we lose/damage/eat stuff. Now would you like some insurance?”

For some reason (my money is on laziness) the mailing center is never fully stocked, a detail I seem to forget every time, luckily there was one box left in the size I needed. The item I was mailing was just a little too small, but there was a stamp collecting brochure lying there and I was able to rip out a couple of pages and wad them up for filler (You don’t imagine that’s a federal offense do you? Who are they trying to kid anyway, no one collects stamps anymore. Do they? Is there an app for that?)

One of the questions the nice machine asks is if you are using one of their boxes, then it asks you which one, then it spits out a postage “stamp” that is so big it covers one entire side of the box you just told it you were using and you’re supposed to figure out how to fit it on the package and still leave a clue to WHERE the box needs to be delivered. WHY does the robot ask WHICH box you are using if it is going to print a sticker that is too big for that box? WHY??????

I looked at the giant sticker and at my little box and I’m sorry to have to tell you this, I snapped just a little. I slapped the sticker on the back side of the box and wrote a note on the front side in the tiny space that says “Place Postage Here”. Then I realized that writing mean notes to the mailman is kind of like insulting your waiter and since the package contained a birthday gift I would hate for it to get spat upon so I tried to play off my mean note like it was a joke by drawing a smiley face next to it but if your birthday is next week you might want to use gloves when handling your mail.  Just sayin’. It’s the thought that counts, right?

1 comment:

Karen said...

Go ahead and blame it on PMS ... I do ... and I have no ovaries at all! Maybe there is an app for a mood changer?

 
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