We recently got a slip in our mailbox that said something to the tune of: Sorry we missed you, you have a registered envelope. You can either pick it up at your local post office or sign the slip and we will redeliver it, just tell us where to leave it.
Sara signed the slip (the slip said it was for her, but not who it was from), also wrote that I could sign for it, and we left it taped to our mailbox yesterday. Today I was extra vigilant for the postal carrier just in case he or she (it is usually a he) wanted someone to sign for it. Of course he came while I was occupied with some important business. I went outside and found the slip in our box with some extra scribbling saying that a signature was needed.
I ran all around our neighborhood looking for our postal carrier. This was particularly unpleasant because it was rather warm and humid today. I finally tracked him down. He said that not only did someone have to sign for it, that someone needed to pick it up from the post office. While I was annoyed that this information was not put on the slip in the first place, I put on a smile(you don't want to antagonize your mail carrier) and I asked him whether I could go or if Sara was the one who needed to go. He said I could go.
I should point out that Sara has been very stressed (for reasons I won't go into here, let me just say the words Biostatistics and Epidemiology) and not knowing what this was was just stressing her out more. Thus I was determined to get to the bottom of this. As this was unfolding, our power went out, creating other difficulties - but that is another story for another time.
I headed down to our post office and gave the overweight guy behind the counter the slip of paper. He asked for ID and disappeared for a rather long time. I saw him pop out one door and go into another. Finally he came out and said Sara had to come in to get it herself. Ugh!
When Sara got home this afternoon, I explained the saga to her and we decided to just go down to the post office there and then. This time it all worked out. The mysterious envelope? Some little thing Sara bought on eBay.
While I am at it, let me vent a little more:
- Why does the power go out right when you are in the middle of writing something important or just wrote down some brilliant idea on your computer? Moreover, how come the system saved version cut short right before this important thing or idea?
- Why does it take me five second to get one contact in and half an hour to get the other one in?
- And why do I get some trash in my eye an hour after said trial of getting the contact in? I swear a speck of dust feels like a boulder in your eye.
Ok, I am tired and I have realized that I am babbling here so it is time to close up shop. Maybe I will go suck on a salted lime...