Overcoming decades of postal inertia I managed to drag myself and my little tiny package to the post office today.
It was such a tiny package that the international custom form almost didn’t fit on the package. A form, by the way, that I – even though I’m college educated, a have worked for three government agencies- had to ask for help when filling it it out.
What is the value of three used game-boy cartridges? The value of a pokeman trading card?
And what box do you check if it isn’t a gift, business item, or sample (which I would think would be another form of business item). Yes, “other” seems like an obvious choice, but so many times what I think is obviously correct is in fact the wrong box to check off.
Maybe I have postal anxiety and my brain shuts off when I walk in the door.
My mom has some weird thing about dialing the phone. She does anything she can to avoid it. Seriously. Back in the old days when phones had dials she would try and trick my dad and I into dialing the phone for her (“why don’t you call your grandmother to say ‘hi’ – I’ll talk to her after you’re done”) Once we got a push button phone she became a lot less goofy about it.
But I digress. The point is that I finally gathered up the bits and pieces I needed and actually went out and bought a padded envelope and found my sister’s new address in Stockholm, and got everything in the car with me and my wallet and got to the post office and after an embarrassingly overdue amount of time got this out of my life.
Yippee skippie.
