I fell into the habit of reading the newspaper every morning when I was a kid. Back then, there used to be two daily newspapers–morning edition and an afternoon edition. Nowadays, of course, many cities in the U.S. have just a morning paper. I’m not too picky about which newspaper I read, although when it comes to national newspapers, I prefer reading the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal over USA Today. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not a news junkie. I just like browsing the different sections, reading the headlines, and checking out the classifieds. I usually skip the sports section and the funnies, and only flip through the food and health sections, but I always read the front page and the editorial page. On the weekends, I’ll skim the entertainment section for the movie listings and reviews.
I’m sort of old-fashioned in that I still like reading a real, paper newspaper. Sure, I also read some of my news online, but nothing beats lounging around on Sunday morning reading the big, thick paper. Don’t worry, though: I always recycle my stack of newspapers.
Going to the Post Office
For me, things never go very smoothly at my local post office. I’ve learned that if you want to mail a letter, you’ll have no problems. But if things get more complicated than that, well, watch out!
Yesterday I went there to mail a small package and to pick up a book of stamps. I waited my turn in line, and when I get up to the window, the clerk asks me, “What can I do for you?” “Well,” I said, “I need a book – no, make that a roll of stamps. And I need to send this package priority to San Francisco.” “You want insurance with that?” he asked me.
“Uh, I don’t know, what do you recommend?” “Well,” he said, “you can send it priority with tracking if you want to see when it gets there, you can send it insured if the contents are valuable, or you can do both.” “Okay, I’ll take the insurance.” “Then step aside to fill out the insurance form,” he said, “and bring it back up to me when you’re finished.”
With that, I was waved aside to fill out my form. “Next in line!” the clerk called. When I finished filling out the form, I waited patiently until the gentleman being waited on in front of me was finished, and then stepped back up to the window. “Sorry,” the clerk said, “I’m on break now. She can help you at the next window.” Maybe it would be quicker just to drive my package to San Francisco.