Long time readers of my blog will remember that my Post Office burned down not long after the block of flats next to mine exploded. Gosh that was a fun year, wasn't it? That wasn't even the worst of it - the ex's Dad took his decline on April Fools Day (while our flat was still part of a crime scene) and was in and out of ER for most of the year, passing away in August, the very week we moved into the house we had just built. Then there was the Dad's mistress and how she ran off with all the contents of the house and tried to further defraud the ex and his sister.
That's much of the backstory as to how I ended up in mental distress. Good times. I don't miss living that level of drama at all!
It seems that my Post Office has been back up and running for a year now! Wow, has it been that long? I love my post office - it's right near my parent's place, near my childhood local deli where I still like to shop and near a kosher bakery. It also stays open to 6pm every night which means I can always get to the Post Office and they are so helpful with posting things the most economical way. They know me by name. They've followed my moving home, splitting from the ex and needing to redirect my mail, all the books and art I posted home from World Fantasy Con (and then had redirected to my Nana's, whilst they wondered why the heck I was posting to myself and then redirecting) and they know my mail. It's weird but they share all the books as they come in and go out and the funny things that people sometimes send to me or affectionately address to me.
When they had to close for over 6 months whilst the Post Office was rebuilt, we all got new boxes out at Mirrabooka - that's a suburb that my mother won't let me go to in the bright hour of noon, let alone past on the way home from work. Plus, they aren't open after 5pm and have all the PO boxes in this enclosed area with glass door access. Not gonna pop in there at 6.30 at night. And on top of that, pretty much all my mail is bigger than my box - I opted for a small box in the first place since my lovely Post Office is open till 6pm so it's no big deal to collect the red cards and walk straight in to collect the packages. There was no way I was going to stand in the Saturday morning queue to collect my 15 small boxes once a week. Besides, I love *my* Post Office experience.
I had all my mail redirected for the length of time they were out of action and insisted on returning to my Post Office and my box - number 3027. I would wait for them, no matter how long it took. Apparently there was some interesting politics where several of the local Post Offices tried to pinch my Post Office's clientele. And apparently more than 65% of us vehemently objected. The day I did it at Mirrabooka, there were 3 or 4 others doing the same.
And tonight, the Post Office is treating us to a hob nob with wine and cupcakes (how could they ever *not* be "my people"?) and show bags! My sister thought it was hilarious that I was going along but I personally am interested in peeking at the others who have PO boxes and trying to work out who has them just for the address to get their brown paper packages delivered to ...