Neither Snow Nor Rain Nor...

We have all heard the US Postman's creed: "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." And, we probably all know that it isn't really an oath of the US Postal Service, although it is inscribed on the John Farley US Postal building in New York City. But in my mind one could always count on the USPS to get your mail from point A to point B, albeit a bit slower than we like on occasion. But total dereliction of duty?

I received this email notification yesterday morning. Sounds legitimate enough, but why, asked I (with my enquiring mind) was the postman unable to deliver my package?

Was it too large to fit in my mail box?

No.

Was I not home to receive it if the guy wanted to put it in my hands?

No.

Was it something that required special handling?

No.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Mr. Dreamy wandered out to our mailbox to look for the aforementioned notice.  There was no notice in the box. There wasn't a slip of paper in there. Nothing.... except for two stamped letters I had placed in the box the previous morning so they could go on their way to destinations not so far away. The little flag, the one that tells Mr. Postman to stop and pick up outgoing mail, was upright. A silent sentinel keeping vigil over my documents. 

Curiouser and curiouser.

Mr. Dreamy wandered into town to the local Post Office to pick up the missing package, and to enquire as to why the postman was unable to deliver the package, and to enquire as to why the postman did not pick up our outgoing mail. And the reason? 

Are you ready for this?

The carrier quit!! In the middle of his rounds he apparently decided the heck with it, turned his little postal truck around, drove back to the post office, parked the truck in the back yard (still full of mail), walked into the inner sanctums of the office, proffered his keys and announced, 

"I Quit!"

How crazy is that? I hope the poor guy has some other job to fall back on. I am thinking he might not get very good recommendations from his former employer!

The outcome of the story from my point of view is that I did finally get my package, and thanks to the kindness of Mr. Dreamy,  my letters are on their way, and I had something I found to be a bit interesting to post on my blog today!

Do Not Fold, Spindle or Mutilate

I spent hours making a beautiful card for Thanksgiving, quilling leaves in warm fall colors and quilling a cornucopia spilling with pumpkins, squash, carrots, apples, grapes and corn... all made of strips of paper. I whirled and twirled the paper, and used sticky glue that made the papers stick to my fingers, and then placed all of the itty-bitty pieces on the card. Did I think to take a picture? No... darn it! But the leaves I made looked very similar to these.... and I clustered them together along the top and one side of the card. The cornucopia was in the opposite corner, with its contents spilling along the bottom of the card.

Where I found the picture

I ventured to the post office to mail the card to my brother and his wife. Since I had stupidly made the card too large for a normal envelope, I used a padded envelope I had on hand. When I arrived at the counter, I asked the PO employee if she had a "Do Not Bend" stamp (realizing I hadn't written it on the envelope in red ink). She picked up the envelope, and bent it... both ways... (yeah, lady, it does bend!) before saying that she didn't have a stamp and even if she did, it wouldn't guarantee that the envelope wouldn't be bent. Inside a voice was shouting..."don't bend it - you idiot!" On the outside I kept my cool.
The postal employee did her magic with the scale and the computer and declared, "That will be $2.10." The read-out I could see declared my piece to be a "parcel".... not a letter. I asked her when a letter became a parcel. Whereupon she picked my envelope up, bent it one way, then the other... and said, "it all depends on the size."
At this point, it is a good thing that I don't have any hormones left in my body, or I would have been screaming at the lady, "WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT DO NOT BEND?!!!" I might have been reduced to a sobbing blob on the post office floor, or other patrons may have had to restrain me as I clawed my way over the counter to throttle the postal employee.  Instead, I shut my mouth, fumed inside, and marched out of the Post Office.
I mean, really, is it so hard to understand "Do NOT bend"?!