So, the tattoo is still sore, but doing nicely. The stuff I have to put on it, Aquaphor, is really gross, and has my shirt sticking to it; I wish I could just sit at home with a baggy house shirt on and watch tv. Oh well. But all in all, no regrets. I just wish it were done!
Basically, the pollen has taken over. I will now commence sinus infection that lasts until september. Fabulous.
Finally, today I went to the post office to pick up a letter that was sent by certified mail (it was important). Thing is, it was supposed to arrive on March 22, and since it never did, I used the tracking number to determine that it was sitting at the post office for no reason. I haven’t even gotten a notice, and trust me, I have been looking for it, and I am 100% sure that I haven’t gotten said notice. When I went up to the counter after waiting for everyone in East Atlanta to buy $500 money orders (seriously, there is a bank right up the street… why not go there?), the clerk asks me for the notice.
I explain that there was no notice, and that in fact, I had to call to even find out the letter was that post office. She said that she was certain that there was a notice left, and I again insisted that there wasn’t, citing the fact that I was expecting the letter, and was therefore more careful in checking my mail, and confirmed there was no way I could have missed it. Before slowly trotting off the back, she again, egotistically assured me that there was no fault on the part of the postal service, as said notice was definitely placed in my mail box (because they NEVER make mistakes, right?). Just as she started to walk away, I said, “well, it may have been placed in A box, but it wasn’t in MY box.” Whatever. So she comes back, and points to the place on the letter where the clerk had indicated that he had in fact delivered said notice on the 22nd. I again insisted that the notice was not in my box, and the teller explained that I should be “more careful” when looking through my mail, as if that was the reason why the clerk didn’t place it in my mail box as he said he did. I guess I just want to know why the damn postal service workers are such egotistical maniacs, that they think they could never possibly make a mistake? I mean seriously, we all make mistakes, so why not just own up to it? Oh, I guess that would require you to be in possession of a soul and have the ability to feel and show compassion. Well, next time you don’t deliver my letter, I want the damn money the person who sent it paid given back to them, because you didn’t do your job, postal service! Hmpf!
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