My Love Isn't Important

I did what I always do and procrastinated and procrastinated and whined and became unforgivably late before actually getting off my ass and doing something. This time it was the Post Office. So I ended up there with postage to buy for work, 2 things to mail for work, personal bills to send, personal letters to send and a couple of packages. I had to go to the window and get packing material then I had to pack things up then I had to wait in the line to actual POST the materials.

Quick digression: spending 45 minutes in this particular Post Office only serves to lower my level of surprise that the postal service is a place where colleagues routinely open fire on each other.

So, I'm organizing myself as I wait in the long line for the last step of actual postage and I discover that QuewlKat's birthday card is missing. Did I leave it at work? Did I leave it at one of my gazillion stops inside the PO? Did someone steal it? I bought postage for it and went to poke around and see if I turned it up.

There is a cagey looking senior citizen hanging around the table where you fill out all your forms. She keeps shuffling an envelope under her bag and when I swing by to look at the table she gives me a funny stare. I can't find it, I hope to hell it's on my desk at work and stop at the table again to repack my backpack and the woman starts to walk away leaving behind the envelope.

It's mine, of course.

She sees me pick it up and she decides to tell me all about it.

"I was going to mail it. I decided to look at it and see if it was important and if it was then I'd mail it. But it wasn't important so I didn't. If it had been important it would have been worth the fifty cents or whatever it took but since it wasn't important I just left it. If it had been important I would have mailed it, though. But it wasn't."

My reactions are twofold:

1. It is fucking important you judgemental old hag! It's QuewlKat's birthday card and her birthday was on October 16th and she's in a foreign country for a year and she just had her leg run over by a car and she needs my love. I put my love in there old woman and it's very important so hand over your damn fifty cents and shut the fuck up!

2. Wouldn't you rather make yourself look better by saying that you were just about to mail it just to be nice? Wouldn't you look better if you were all selfless and helpful? Couldn't you just give the helpful part and leave it at that? Why tell me that you read my mail and deemed it unworthy of your charity? How does that make either of us feel better?

Crazy people.

P.S. Happy inaugural day of (Inter)National Blog Posting Month.