You can't go back again. Rats. I spent some discretionary and recreational time fooling with new Blogger options. This must be like waking up in Margaritaville with a scary tattoo. I am not in love with my new blog look or sure how I got it, but it seems I'm stuck with it.
At least I'm not married to my postal carrier. Literacy is important in a lifelong mate, and you would think it would be a requirement for a mail deliverer. But, NOOOOOO!
Headed to Oregon with a recent history of mailbox malfunctions, I used Our Postal Service's online vacation hold service. Please don't leave mail for me 12/16-12/21. When I get back I will pick up the accumulated mail at the post office. It seemed so simple and heart-warming, like leaving milk and sugar cookies for Santa.
My postal worker ceased delivery a day early. The automated system sent me an email saying my hold was canceled another day early. Having specified I would pick up my mail at the post office I just kinda, silly me, thought my mail would be waiting. But, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! My illiterate Pony Express dude put it in his truck. His (yes, a guy) supervisor didn't think it sad that the carrier had messed up on all three of the hold specifications. In baseball he would have been OUT.
This would be the same postal service that delivered an order of replacement electric toothbrush heads to the Woolly Mammoth in D.C. this week. The package was postmarked last January twenty-fifth! A lot of plaque and tartar can build up while you wait for the US Postal Service to bring your toothbrush.
At the opposite extreme of customer service, my homegrown mechanic shop is trying hard to solve the Buick's automotive problems without charging me for failed attempts. The Skylark may need a brain transplant, but Mario doesn't want to replace the brain if my car just needs a wisdom tooth removed.
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder