My roommates make fun of me because of my propensity to decorate. Every fall, this instinct is further perpetuated by the immediate female members of my family, who send me fun little "Halloweeny" type gifts from the Bibelot, etc. These packages usually consist of napkins, wall hangings, candles and the like.
And every fall I'm overwhelmed with guilt because I get these awesome packages and I never have any money (or forethought) to prepare one in return. Yes, I know, I am a holiday mooch.
But not this year.
Oh no, not this year. I had my ACT TOGETHER! I was shopping for Halloween gifts in August! I used tissue paper! I bought presents on the road! I had them wrapped (and addressed) two weeks ago!
But then they just sat in my car because:
I couldn't find a freakin' post office.
It's not that there aren't any in DC. Oh no. It's the fact that, working 9-5 Monday through Friday with class on Saturdays, I couldn't get to my normal post office during the day. (These packages, although small, needed to be weighed). At my old job in Dupont circle, I'd just walk down the street during my lunch hour and be done with it.
But my new job, down on the waterfront, is a different story.
Yesterday, desperate to ship them off (as it's now October - October! - and it's imperative that I get this package to my sister before she sends one to me (so she can deal with the guilt this year, not me)) I drove around downtown over my lunchbreak - for an hour.
An hour! In my car! On a gorgeous 80 degree October day!
I was so mad when I got back to the office and I still had those stupid packages. I was ready to drop kick them into the Potomac.
Then, of course, my office mate says (because inevitably this happens - my life is a sitcom, btw), "Oh, there's one up the street!" (You know when Peanut's characters get that scribble mark above their heads when they're disgruntled? That was me.)
So after work, I head deep into SW DC where my honky-tonky value skyrockets. I obviously don't belong or know what I'm doing. Case in point: I had to pass my packages through a bullet proof glass and shut the door before the postal worker would receive them, but I stood there staring at the postal worker before she said "Are you gonna put your packages down or what?" Uh, whoops.
But anyway, besides that little adventure, I finally - FINALLY - got those silly packages off. And now to reap the rewards..........
M is for Mail,