The Post Office Extravaganza

You’ll probably laugh at this, but let me tell you, I cried. I literally cried.

My Tuesday started out pretty solid – a sunny day and a 2 mile walk, then planning Thanksgiving dinner with a few friends. Later in the afternoon, I had a bunch of errands to run (which really only included going to the post office and then the craft store to spend too much money on crafts I really can’t handle). I headed out, and “Wow it’s a little chilly. I should have grabbed my jacket.” (Foreshadowing?)

I went to the post office in the town north of me, not in my town, because I was going to the craft store on the way home. I’m always a little afraid to go to this post office because a few months ago, someone got shot in the parking lot right across the street. Ghetto. So I go to the post office, and I have to send out two big packages. Of course I can’t balance my purse, my phone, my keys, my wallet, and the two packages, so I wrap my wallet handle around my wrist and head inside. After a ten minute wait, I pay and head to the car. Before I get outside, I reach for my keys. I always (ALWAYS) hang my keys from my right belt loop when I don’t have my purse. No keys. You know that instant feeling where something’s wrong?  Yeah, me too.

I (practically) run to the car and there are my keys. And my phone. And my purse. Sitting on the front seat. !@#$%^&* (That’s me saving your virgin little ears from the all the curse words that came out of my sailor’s mouth). So a slight panic sets in, but I remember, “I have roadside assistance!” Except… the phone number, and my account number, and my PHONE, are all in the car. No worries – there’s a payphone, and I do have my wallet. Except no change. Not even a damn quarter.

So as my eyes start welling up with tears (I’m a big baby), I start panicking. What the hell am I going to do? I go inside and it takes everything in my power to hold back my tears as I ask the post office lady to use the phone. She hands me her own cell phone, and it’s one of those old-school flip phones. I almost can’t remember how to use one. I call the mister. Seven times. No answer. I finally leave him a message and I’m half crying, half sniffling on my voicemail. I walk outside like a lost puppy, and in my most uncomfortable shoes and no jacket, I walk. I ended up walking to Goodwill… don’t ask why. I ask to use their phone, and FINALLY, my mister answers his cell phone. 

I lucked out, BIG TIME, because it just happened to be the day he was out of work way early (which never happens). He assures me that he will come rescue me soon. Thank god for the fact that I have friends, even if it’s just two, in California. They finally showed up, without a spare key, because of course, we aren’t smart enough to have a spare key. Spare keys are for losers. Thankfully, again, the mister has a phone with the internet. And thankfully again (I was just full of thanks), our insurance company rocks. They tracked my location and sent a guy. It took the guy almost an hour, of course, so the mister and I hung out in the post office parking lot (how creepy are we). Once the tow guy finally showed up, it takes all of one minute to open the door. The worst, and yet, the best.

Okay, I realize now when I put it into words – it doesn’t seem nearly as traumatic. But all I could think was, “What if the mister hadn’t answered his phone? What in the world would I have done? I could have been kidnapped. Or shot. Or I could have frozen to death.” I’m lucky I even remembered his cell phone number. The only other person I could think to call was my mom (3,500 miles away on the East Coast) and cry to her. I’m secretly a big fat baby at heart.

And also, I didn’t get to go to the craft store. So that sucked.

I do feel like I complain a lot. But that's what blogs are for, right?