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January 25th 2010    Tim Candler

     Big snowflakes in town this morning.  Saw them dropping from the sky.   And at the Post Office there was a sense of hangover.

     We professionals, who are accustomed to having days off, generally find ourselves relatively cheerful on Monday morning.   We drift across the parking lot, grinning amiably and apparently immunized, while others trudge and growl. 

      I had to have a letter weighed, and my worry was with the address, in case when my turn came I would have to explain myself to the Scary Postal Clerk who on several occasions has been very critical of my hand writing.

    Inside the Post Office, the line that forms had been hiccupped by whether a padded envelope containing a laptop computer could survive passage through the postal system without first being insured  for full value.   An issue that was finally resolved by a failure of those technical devices that process credit and debit cards. 

     This failure produced a flurry in the line and all of a sudden I was next.   But behind me was the Scary Postal Clerk, and while I was presented with delivery options for a large envelope, she was swapping stories and promising lunch and asking questions in a manner that defied the reputation I have given her.

      Apparently the Scary Postal Clerk has retired.  And I am going to miss her grizzled attitude toward sloppy hand-writing which has kept me on my toes when addressing envelopes.. 

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