Something earth shattering happened outside the Post Office today; I tripped through the Twilight Zone.

Damned to a spot far from the building, I dragged my packages a few blocks. Since the purpose of my visit was orders, and orders ran strong, I didn’t mind a jaunt. The overloaded parking lot was a bigger concern.

Besides USPS, the only other ‘business’ at that corner is a convenience store, which has a stern anti-shopping policy ( a blog for next week, perhaps ), so the parking crunch could only be caused by postal customers. But, again, a rising tide lifts all boats – a little line time seemed a fair escrow payment on good sales.

Near the door where clerks pass mail bins out the building for loading, a USPS employee waited inside a mail truck. She watched me wrestle a nylon bag with long, green handles and white stitching. A printed label on one packages poked over the top of the bag.

She summoned me, less like a lord dispatches a servant, more like one schoolboy goads another into forbidden acts. “Those paid up?” she asked.

Absolutely, they were prepaid.
“I’ll take’em.” And she did, each package disappeared inside an official bin beside her.

Only at home did the weight of the events hit me. At least one USPS employee is nice, friendly, and helpful. Shocking in itself, but might there be a second? Now I must rest. Even but a moment in the Zone is exhausting.

BTW – The proper word count for the meter at the right is 69,349. There’s a bit of an issue right now; I can’t update that part of the database.