“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard: March 23, 2003

Friday, March 28, 2003

Yeah. It got here.

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

So I get a postcard this morning. It's from UPS. It says they have a package for me. This is all well and good, but the card goes on to say that I need to call them and give them directions so they can deliver it because they can't find my apartment. For a moment this strikes me as odd since, after all, the POSTCARD made it to my door OK. But it dawns on me that sending a postcard to an address you're unsure of is safer than just sending the package to an address you're unsure of.

So I call UPS. And I explain that I did in fact receive the postcard and it is my package and they can just send the package to that same address. They asked me for directions. That's right, UPS, a MAIL SERVICE, is incapable of finding a complex concept like Louisiana avenue, A MARKED PUBLIC STREET. Once again, I am taken aback.

So I give them directions to my apartment. This is only slightly less painful than giving directions to the Chinese woman at the take-out place, as I only have to spell ‘Louisiana’ 3 times for the UPS people. By this point I am marveling at the idea that getting my mail hinges upon my ability to give directions SIMPLER than the ones we give the stoner pizza boy who always gets lost anyway.

So I’m back to my original quandary: WHO DELIVERED THE POSTCARD? I can only assume that it was sent by US mail. So if the card was sent US mail and THEY can find my place, then who the hell is UPS hiring? Who are they hiring, and why can they not call the local post office and ask for directions? Is the rivalry that heated? Will violence and gunplay ensue? We’ll find out tomorrow when my package either does, or does not show up. (Wow! A cliffhanger!)

I’m Ford W. Maverick, and I’ll see you in hell.