Monday, December 20, 2004
The act of hauling my disinterested body and even more hesitant mind out of bed in the morning becomes a nearly impossible task when the temperature drops below freezing. It was about 9F this morning here at the Haupertonian World HQ. The freezing rain and sodden dusting of snow have since turned to a sparking sheen of ice. There was even ice on the INSIDE of the windows in the twin's suite. Knowing that this may bode ill for the commute to work, the Mrs and I tried to get out of the house and on our way as quickly as possible. This was all well and good till we got to the carport. Both the windshields on the SuperSaturn and the Family Tank were completely sheeted with a healthy accumulation of ice. Not the neat semi-transparent kind either. It took a good 10-15 minutes to chip away. That puts us seriously behind. Every minute delay counts as two on the road. Two minutes too much in the traffic wonderland of SUVs driving sideways down the turnpike. The panic stricken slow drivers who are out-paced by 100 year old invalids tooling down the shoulder in their walkers. The sleep deprived fuel oil truck drivers weaving madly about in order to get their explosive payloads delivered before they get yet another lecture about how someone's children are freezing to death due to someone's lack of foresight and realization that it IS winter after all. The Yugo drivers that think if they jump into traffic, you will still have enough time to stop before you plan your 1.5 ton truck in their back seat. All the standard dizens of the Philly Rush Hour Review, On Ice. I should sell tickets.
I stopped off at the Post Office this morning to send off a package to Rochester and a wad of Christmas Letters. Insanity you say? I thought so as well. Here are the statistics: Left Office at 0930, got back by 0945. Time warp? Worm Hole? Fantasy World? Nope, welcome to the world of technology. The Regional USPS Distribution Center was ready and waiting for me. There was a uniformed man standing next to a raft of bins to sort and send my letters off and another neatly pressed postal agent prepared to show me how to use the self-serve automated, CC enabled POS electronic scale. "Put your packaged here, follow the instructions on the screen, press here, swipe your card in here and voila, instant postage label. Oh, and let me put that package on the plane for you, have a nice day." Ummm, wow. I have never had a really good time at the post office, but this was better than the Home Depot Temple self-check out. I asked the Mrs later if she had anything else she wanted to ship so I could do it again.