Ok, administrative stuff first:
For some reason, the recent comments widget I use on Blogger has randomly decided to break and display comments that are almost six months old. They are obviously not recent. I'll give it another day or so to sort itself out, but after that, it's coming down, and I'll figure out some other way to track who has been saying what, and where.
Onwards to the post title!
Today I went out to do errands. This often happens. I had an appointment somewhere, and then I went on to Target, thus acquiring much gift bows, gift tags, and holiday cards. I am in full Jenny-holiday-mode now. I was gone for perhaps two hours, maybe a little less.
I returned home to find a package on my doorstep. What joy, a package!
Except, you see, the new mailman had left my package (which contained a book), in a puddle on my doorstep. In fact, in the only single, solitary puddle on the entire doorstep. This is not a small doorstep. It is made of concrete; it could house several plants, comfortably, and still allow people to walk in and out of my front door with ease. There was a large amount of space on the doorstep that was completely dry. Yet the package was sitting in the puddle, as if it had been placed there on purpose. I can only assume that my substitute mailman (my beloved mailman, Andy, is on sabbatical for a year) put it there that way.
I ran into the house with the package and the shopping. The entire envelope was soaked through. But somehow, thanks to whatever miracle manilla envelope bubble padding that Simon & Schuster had used, the book inside was dry.
I was relieved.
More than relived because this had been an entirely unexpected present from an editor, and it's actually a book that looks *really* good.
But after relief, comes anger, at least in my case, where books are concerned.
So I called my local post office and spoke to the supervisor for about ten minutes. And I lodged a formal complaint against the substitute mailman, who had been getting progressively worse for the last few months. Little things, like giving my neighbors my mail, and giving me my neighbors' mail. Or completely ignoring the green rubbermaid bin that permanently lives on my doorstep, for the express purpose of putting packages in. But the package in the puddle was really the last straw.
I hate to complain about postal workers, because sometimes they have a tough job. But seriously, I pay your salary with my tax dollars--don't leave my packages in puddles. Enough said. =)