My Gift To You For The New Year...

...a rant.

After traveling for 4 hours and 250 miles from Clovis, we arrived in White Rock at 4:32 p.m. Our goal was to get here, or more specifically to the post office, by 4:30 to pick up our mail after being gone for 10 days.

I love getting the mail. I usually meet the letter carrier at the mailbox. I hear the truck coming and I go out. I LOVE getting the mail! I don't know why, but it can't be a bad thing, right?

So I was REALLY looking forward to getting mail from the 7 non-holiday mail days. Yay! Seven days of mail!

After getting a bottle of Diet Pepsi at Santa Rosa and not stopping since then, my bladder was uncomfortably full. We passed 5 gas stations, but I decided that we were going to make it to the post office just on time, so I decided to fore go the potty stops. After all, it would be worth it when I had a stack of circulars, junk mail, Christmas cards, and other surprise gems in front of me waiting to be opened, read, or perused.

On the way from the Truck Route to White Rock (about a 2.5 - 3 mile stretch of state road with a 55 MPH speed limit), we got behind 2 slow pokes. I think we were going 45. So to add to the urgency of my bladder, I now have the urgency of the clock. 4:28. 4:29. We get to the stoplight at White Rock at 4:30. 4:31 we're turning on the street the post office is on. 4:32 Steve pulls up tot he curb and I hustle in. Well, I kind of waddle since my bladder is screaming now, but it's a quick waddle.

I get inside and see a patron and my favorite, very friendly post office lady. The door is locked to where they are. I patiently stand there as they do their transaction. I'm thinking when she comes to unlock the door to let him out I can ask if I can just pick up the mail. She looks up and says in a loud voice, "You're too late." 4:32. You're kidding me. "Can I just pick up my mail?" "No."

I waddle a bit slower back to the car and actually start to cry when I get in. I'm so mad! I thought the post office lady was my friend. That's what I get for thinking. As I'm fighting tears, I think, "Why am I so upset? It's just a pile of papers. Most of it is probably junk, anyway." So I get myself under control and manage to bolt out of the car as soon as Steve slows down to less than 5 MPH. I had to go. I think Steve didn't believe how badly how bad I had to go until I hopped out of the car while it was still moving.

So I'm pretty ticked off because of the post office fiasco and then I make the mistake of stepping on the scale.

HUGE, HUGE, HUGE mistake. It was ugly. After shedding my Levi's, it got a bit better, but it was still ugly. This morning it was a touch better but still unacceptable. 198.9. Man, was I ticked off. I started crying again. I stomped around the house for a while, then finally decided that I would give myself until the end of the current TV show ("Jeopardy" was on our TV) and then I would get over myself. After I made that decision I was fine. I didn't need the extra 15 minutes to get over myself. That was surprising.

So this morning I have 3 kids who are tearing into all the Christmas presents we didn't let them have at grandmothers' houses, a husband who is outside putting his new car stereo (birthday present that got here too late) in his truck, a cat who won't let me out of her sight, and my own coffee pot. Home sweet home.

I'm going to sign off now. I bought cinnamon rolls for breakfast (good trend for 2008, right?) and I need to get them in the oven.