I should thank Pamela for saving me from a high blood pressure event today.

I went to the post office (the US Post Office, for those of you not familiar, is a monopoly that carries the mail in the United States) and I was hoping for a minimum of wait and fuss in order to send two letters. Hah.

Normally you can just drop letters in the mailbox, but these two required special handling – I wanted them “Certified” (proof that I did mail them on a certain date and time) and “Return receipt requested” (the recipient has to sign for the package; proof of signature and delivery is then sent to me).

The line was all the way out the door to the post office.

There was one person at the counter. For every five people that went into the post office, one person came out.

As a result I discovered something today; I don’t think I could go back to college. I recall standing in line for the Bursar’s office at BSU for hours, hoping that I would get the class I wanted. Often you didn’t and you had to go to the back of the line and try again. There is no way I could do that now. I simply do not have the patience neccessary for that. I think I would start cursing on the spot, vowing to get their funding cut for being so inefficient. (Yes, I’m aware that would probably make the lines LONGER, but it would feel good. By the time I’m yelling while standing in line logic has long ago left the equation.)

So, my thanks to Pam for saving me from the frustration of the post office. Sometimes love isn’t a grand heroic gesture; at times it is simply doing some bit of drudgery because your loved one simply is too miserable to do it themselves.