I love mailing things. One could call me, Queen of the Mail, I’m so often schelpping to the post office.
So today, I’m there with a package I worked on neurotically all morning like it was being entered in a contest, my biggest worry, it will somehow open in flight.
Cut to…Gracie Square Post Office – 85th and Third.
I stand in line like a pack mule, my parcel obscuring my face preventing me from seeing, I’m next.
Suddenly there’s a collective roar…HEY LADY…YOU’RE NEXT!!!
So I amble up to Greg, who I’ve known forever, a cute, nice what my pal Camille likes to call, meat and potatos man, who welcomes me like a relative.
“Hey, yo…where ya been? It’s been what, an houa since you been hea?” His dimples playfully dancing.
I smile, ask after his kids before handing him the Moby Dick of packages.
“Don’t tell me, youse warried it’s gonna open?”
I give him my best demure thin girl smile before saying, “Well, yes.”
“Dalin, youse got enough tape on there, Hou-deeeni couldn’t freak’in open it,” as he puts on another hefty strip.