Going Postal

As planned, Monday morning I reinstated my "Triple A," and got 'ol Wanda the Honda back to the shop. Although I am absolutely dense when it comes to space, time and therefore directions, I am very much aware of the distance from my house to the mechanic since 7 miles was this morning's limit on "free" roadside assistance. The total distance was 7.67 miles actually. I don't feel great about it being called "free" since I'm pretty sure I had just read the numbers off my Visa to an agent for the grand total of $67. What are ya gonna do?

After checking out some OBcean apartments, I decided one was adorable and the other a dump. I was later dropped off at home by my dear friend who happens to also be a dear mama. My new theory: The only way to house hunt in between jobs one and two on a humid Monday afternoon, to do so with two precious babies in the back seat...mostly because they laugh at your silly jokes and facial expressions.

I still had an hour before job #2 and with the list of tasks to accomplish this week, had no time to waste. Note: I very, very rarely consider a 3pm nap a waste, but today was an exception. So, in an effort to stay on top of my "To-Do" list, I got on top of my bike. Random Tangent: I've heard some corny married people (not that all married people are corny, I'm not cynical anymore remember!) use the term "Honey do" list. This would be the wife saying to her hub, "Honey do...fill in the blank." I'm not about being a bossy spouse (I mean, that's why I have students to boss around right?) but the idea, or fantasy rather of asking my "honey" to do some of the typical crap errands I despise, sounds pretty appealing right about now-especially as I gear up to do these errands on a rusty, almost-flat tire'd beach cruiser.

I started out on an adventure to Blockbuster with 3 DVD's of Gossip Girl Season 2 in hand (more like in a bag that I struggled to keep slung over my shoulder as I peddled and gripped the handle bars). I soon got one of those "you should check, just in case" feelings. These don't always come to me since I am kind of a hyper-do-it-quickly kinda kid, and the rare times they do, it is often too late. I'm still honing that skill of forward thinking. Before throwing them into the Returns Drop I checked inside the cases and whadoya know one was empty leading me to the clear conclusion that the DVD was still in the DVD player. Damn. If it weren't for the "If you don't return these TODAY we'll kill you!" (I mean, "we'll charge your credit card") message from Blockbuster on my voicemail, I probably wouldn't have cared much. But, it is what it is...back on the cruiser I go. To my house. To retrieve the disc. With the bike waiting for me outside, on a busy street, where I hope that the 30 seconds it takes to turn on the DVD player's power, hit the "open" button and place it in the case, isn't long enough for a hobo or drunk sailor to steal my little "Baby Blue." My mom says only crazy people name their cars and bicycles. Case in point.

After yet another ride to the video store, the next stop was the Post Office. For some reason Point Loma's is always packed with a line of people with mailing needs! The time of day makes no difference. I always come up with some reason for the crowd in my head. Comforts me in some odd way...

"12:00, must be that guy's lunch break."

"2:30, that woman looks like a mom, she's stoppin here on the way to pick the kids up from school."

"Retired people...have all the time in the world."

Today was particularly awful. Coming up with some general excuse for the task taking 30 minutes seemed impossible and my brain was far too tired to create 15 strangers' reasons for their visiting time. Instead I theorized on WHY the city of San Diego would decide to take the stamp machines OUT of the postal annex! My mail need was simple. Two stamps. With the convenient machine, I could be back on Baby Blue within minutes, happy to avoid the line and scary (also freakishly slow moving) asian man who works there. This was not the case however. I was dealing with the lack of a stamp machine. After 10 minutes and two patrons through the line, I had an announcement to the fellow line waiters on the tip of my tongue..."So, anyone wanna give me two of their stamps and make some commission? I'll give you an entire dollar instead of 88 cents?!" If I were one of those people, I'd think that was a great idea and would gladly sell my stamps to the enthusiastic girl. I chickened out, big time. No entrepreneurial stamp exchange, just more waiting. The best part of my observations (which I just cannot help but do in such a diversely populated situation) was the perma -angry woman behind me. She exhaled loudly countless times and had that look on her face where her eyebrows were arched up as high as she could make them in an effort to silently show her intense anger. She made a few comments about the asian worker. I kept quiet...like any decent person would, waiting to get home and write about him on my blog instead. Have a little class.

Once up to the counter, I asked for my stamps, gave him a dollar and said to keep the change. There just was simply no time for him to count out 12 cents. And he probably would have given me all pennies!

I have a new appreciation for the saying...