Waited in line at the Post Office for an hour. Their automated machines were down. They had two stations open and only one of them could take cash payments. The line went out the door. The sound system played the song “Careless Whisper” on repeat.
When I got up to the counter, I had a whole lot of pieces of mail to send out. For work. I sighed. She sighed. “I could use a drink right now,” she says. I nodded in agreement.
Something to help with the holiday cheer. A bowl of punch or egg nog? Maybe a keg?
Then we discussed migraine medications. Apparently you can now take migraine meds through a nasal spray. I had no idea.
Dear Congress, please give the Post Office the money to hire more people during the holiday season, put out bowls of punch, and pay for Spotify premium subscriptions.