A Cautionary Tale

I have never complained about the United States Post Office.  I mean, of course the lines are long around Christmas, and I think my paychecks from movies and TV should arrive faster, but other than that, I conduct business (you know, paying bills and whatnot) just about completely electronically.

I am now complaining.  I have never seen such a bunch of blithering idiots in my LIFE.  You're going to just LOVE this saga.

On December 19, I got a package from one set of my in-laws.  Also in my mailbox that day was one of those little pink slips that tells you there's a package.  However, it was entirely blank.  So I assumed that the mail person had made a mistake...I already had a package, right?

Well, on Tuesday...yes, that would be Tuesday, the 22nd of January...I got another little pink slip.  This one WAS filled out.  Complete with date of first attempt at delivery...DECEMBER 19th.  Yup.  they brought it back ONE MONTH LATER.  Now, there was NO reason not to leave it with Jimmy the super, since it didn't say "needs signature" or anything like that.  But who knows.

So I called the 800 number for the USPS, and read them the tracking number for the package, which turned out to be wrong.  We tracked the thing down, and I got a promise that it would be redelivered the next day. 

It wasn't.  I called back.  It wasn't delivered yesterday either...in fact, it didn't even get on the truck where it was supposed to be.  Wasn't delivered today, either...and I know damn well the truck was there because someone else got a pink slip for a package.  And I had left a note on the mailbox saying PLEASE RING BELL AT APT. 5E FOR DELIVERY.  The note was missing.  There was no pink slip.

I have called my local post office, which doesn't answer the phone.  I have spoken to the 800 USPS number every single day.  Today, just for the sake of variety, I spoke to the NYC Consumer Affairs Department, which helpfully informed me that my post office is the worst in the city.  This doesn't make things better.

So I think the package is being returned to sender today, which isn't a disaster, since it must be a Christmas gift from another set of in-laws and probably contained chocolates and mixed nuts, which I would very much like to have, but which are certainly not desperately important to my life and continued well-being.  However, the whole thing is just INFURIATING.

Therefore, I exhort you all:  Use FedEx.  Use UPS.  Use DHL.  Use a goddamn mule train.  BUT DON'T GO NEAR THE POST OFFICE!

Love, Wendy

Yeeks!

I'm amazed I have any followers left.  I have just been awful about keeping up here.  Well, new year, new resolve.  I hope.

Now, let's see where we left off in the dim mists of antiquity.

We had Thanksgiving, of course, and I finally got the number of green beans right...that was exciting.  Unfortunately, I forgot to make a note of how many green beans I actually bought, so I'm going to have to go through the whole damn thing again next year.  Ah, well...I'm sure the number of eaters will change anyway, so it doesn't make a whole lot of difference.

Then (logically enough), we had Christmas, which wended its usual path through lobsters on Christmas Eve and roast beef for Christmas Day.  Nothing new there, either.  Sarah, God bless her, bought me a new ironing board...I had asked her to please take down my board and put it away, and she discovered that it no longer folded...so she told me it had to go and removed it and bought me a new one.  Yay!  You understand I haven't done any of the huge piles of ironing I've got yet...mainly because I haven't gone anywhere that required actual ironed grownup clothing.  Actually, I haven't gone anywhere.

I did, however, achieve an actual manager for my career!  This is also not going anywhere at the moment...she wants me to take an improv class, which I'm perfectly willing and ready to do...as soon as I get the necessary $350 together to pay for the damn thing.  What I need to do is call the class, for God's sake, and find out about payment plans.

However, I was hit with the flu from hell right after New Year's Eve and am just coming back to life...my God, I've never had anything last so damn long.  I was only really SICK for a couple of days, but I just couldn't get out of bed.  Yuck.  Now I just cough incessantly.

I haven't done a movie, I haven't done a TV show, and even my ambulance chasing lawyer is ignoring me...another reason why that damn $350 is looming rather large.

And you are now all as up to date as I am...bored and coughing, although I hope nobody's coughing.

Now I'm going to watch Danny Kaye in Hans Christian Andersen, which is one of my favorite movies ever.  It's almost never on TV, so tonight I'm even skipping Downton Abbey (which I can get online anyhow).  Yay, Danny Kaye!

Love, Wendy

Goodbye

There were three of us once.  Peter was the eldest, then me, six months later, then Stevie, six months after me.  We  were the middle.  Carol and Cathy were older, and Mary and John younger, and then of coourse there were the New York cousins, who were around, but not really part of us.

Cathy, Stevie, Mary, John...the only brothers and sisters I, as an only child,  ever had.  Thanksgiving, Christmas, backyards, swings, everything to me.  I had an odd childhood...this was my only taste of reality, and what it might be like to grow up naturally and normally.

Stevie (forever Stevie to me) was my own personal still small center.  He was his father, all over again.  Calm and strong, and good and loving.  The army didn't change him...nothing changed him.  Whaat he may have felt about Viet Nam remained forever within him.  What he gave back to the rest of us was love, in huge measure.

I will, because I must must, adjust to a world without him, but I hate that I have to do so.  I still need Stevie at my back.  And I am not resigned.

Love, Wendy