I’ve been busy. Sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed. The last time I told my husband I felt like I was responsible for everything he said, “You should learn how to meditate and quiet those judgmental voices in your head.”
I replied, “But I need those! Without them, I’d be laying on the futon, eating potato chips all day.”
And look at what I got done! A rather large made-to-order…
And another order:
In other news, Nelson ate a spatula. He didn’t just put his fang on it and bunny kick it a couple of times, he literally consumed the plastic and proceeded to ralph it up on top of the dryer an hour or two later. When I found what was left of my favorite spatula on the kitchen floor, I saw red. I wanted to murderize that cat. Instead, Mr. Sarah and I agreed that he needed to live outside from then on. We’d still feed him and visit him, he just couldn’t come back inside, ever. That lasted about a week. The combination of his shivery meep-peeps outside the window and an angry looking dog on the loose are what did us in. It only took him a day or two to return to eating wet paper towels.
It’s pica, not underfeeding, for any of you who may be tempted to instruct me to give him more food. We’ve tried to pin down what causes him anxiety but we haven’t been able to find any rhyme or reason in it. Once we hide something he has consumed before, he surprises us by eating something even more outrageous. He certainly outdid himself with the spatula. Poor little bugger, he has absolutely no sense of propriety. It’s not his fault he was taken from his mother much too early. He’s very bonded to us, but has refused to learn from the other cats how to be civilized. I’m tempted to sic Jackson Galaxy on his stripey ass. I can’t get rid of him because I love him, but I also kind of hate him. I liken it to being the parent of a teenager. Although I wouldn’t be so hesitant to murderize a teenager… haha.
By no means am I a USPS watchdog, but I do my best to follow the rules and meet the mailing guidelines no matter how silly I think they are. Don’t get me wrong, I have a lot of respect for the USPS and what it gets done every day. I have not once had any problems with domestic mail, but when it comes to international shipping… well, let’s just say I’ve been served more than my share of piping hot screwball more times than I can count. If I didn’t know any better, I might think they don’t want us to mail anything outside of the US. Yes, that was sarcasm you detected.
Here’s the latest:
I went to the post office a few weeks ago, expecting nothing unusual. Normally I go to the one closer to my house, but they close at 5pm. I was sleeping until about 3 or 4 around that time, and the office downtown doesn’t close until 7, so I peeled myself out of bed and hurriedly packed up a large international order. I got there right at 6:30, where I overheard the clerk telling the lady in front of me that all customs form information must be logged into the system before 30 minutes until closing time. Or, get this – the US Customs authorities will fine that office $250,000.
That’s right. And the first I heard of it. For just a few seconds, I was marveling so hard at how little sense that made that I forgot to be miffed off for rushing around and wasting gasoline only to be told something ridiculous enough to melt my brain a little. Once I got back to my car, I remembered to be really, really annoyed.
But I didn’t complain. The next day, I got up even earlier, ready to be a compliant little robot. I was able to get to my usual post office at about 3:45. Let me paint you a picture: Friday afternoon, ONE clerk, TWENTY people lined up out the door, ONE lady who apparently didn’t know you had to put stamps on things to mail them, even if you were mailing a HUNDRED things. (She was totally rockin’ that Bridezilla At The Post Office For The First Time Ever In Her Life look.) There was another clerk who was obviously not allowed to work the register, who stood there and asked every now and again if anyone just had something to drop off or pick up. After waiting in line until about 4:15, with several people still waiting in front of me, I held up my customs form and asked the non-money-handling clerk if the $250,000 rumor was true. She became visibly concerned and interrupted the only working clerk with the same question. That clerk just looked exasperated, and said “yeah, if the info isn’t entered into the system 30 minutes before closing, the government will fine us $250,000. The US customs authorities are really picky.” He didn’t seem nearly as worried about it as the clerk from the day before. And I could tell he kind of wanted to use a different descriptor than “picky.”
Hmmm. So how does the US government fine itself $250,000 for anything, and believe that threat would be real enough for one solitary overworked postal clerk to take seriously? I wasn’t about to start a politically charged debate over simple logic when this poor guy was obviously slammed and had no hope for leaving on time. But I could sense that anyone who had been paying attention to this conversation was just as flabbergasted as I was.
The moral of this story is, if you have the same challenges I do with paying for international postage online (ie, led in e-circles with no way out and finally being instructed to go to the post office and take care of it there) get there WAY before closing time. Plus, I like to think that these particular difficulties that only I seem to experience keeps postal clerks employed.
I’m working on a set or two for Etsy listings next week, but plan to get back to Superstars sometime in the not too distant future. Now that I can work at the computer without needing a cup of Raspberry Restart or Crashytime Chamomile every few hours, I hope to have a bit more patience for staring at the twilight screen for extended jaunts.
Thanks for reading!