Going Postal

Matt called me on his way home from work. He wouldn't make it back in time before the Post Office closes to mail off his bazillion heavy boxes he sold. Crapola is my first thought. These 4 boxes to be exact are in the trunk of my car happily waiting for him to get home and take them where they belong. Very grudgingly I make my way to the Post Office, NOT enjoying the idea of lugging these suckers in the door. I look like some sort of freak making my way up to the door and somehow opening the door on my own. I'm sweating and my arms are aching not to mention screaming profanities quite loudly in my head, by the time I get the 4th box up on the gosh darn counter, which by the way, is too far away from the door. It seriously took me 10 minutes. Of course while I've got the 4th box in my hand, some nice man is like, "Do you have more of those? I could help?" Why oh why didn't he come sooner. Oh well, what a nice gesture.

By the time I get up to the counter for my turn there are 2 worker people, one is the really nice man I'm hoping and praying that I get waited on by, and the other is the cranky, evil biotch lady. Luck must be with me today as I get to talk to the nice man. Yay! I tell him I need to mail the 4 packages in the window next to us with delivery confirmation, insurance...blah blah. He's seen me lug each and every blasted one of those inside and smiles with some sympathy at me. He goes to get one and bring it back and the evil lady says to me all evil like, "You could help him get those." I glare at her all pissed off with my arms still throbbing. But before I could utter a word the nice gentleman waiting on me says, "No she can't. They're heavy, she's already carried all of them in here." Woo Hoo! Did I mention I'm in love, if I was a little older elderly lady?