It's Tuesday, post-lunch, and I've got a good 30 seconds to kill. What am I going to do? Check mail, of course! Maybe I've already checked it twice today, and maybe there wasn't anything to be found. Ir-relevant. Anytime is the perfect time to check mail. Who knows what distant relative, WOM lady, or sweet my-spiritual-gift-is-writing-encouraging-notes-on-craftastic-homemade-cards friend might have felt so led in the last 120 minutes to send a little love over to 410 Ouachita St., box 4493.
So, I head over to the student center, avoid eye-contact with 40+ potential acquaintances lining the couches and corridors (I am on a mission here) as I scurry down the stairs, turn right, duck under some stairwell architecture jutting down from above (and threatening to concuss many an unsuspecting freshman), hang left, and finally reach that blessed small, silver square--a tangible representation of all my post officinal hopes.
I stop. My breath catches as I dream about what could be awaiting me inside box 4493. A giftcard? An Emilee Wade original bird-gram? or perhaps...homemade chocolate chip cookies? Do I dare to dream? I do, I do indeed.
I try my combination, not once, not twice, but seven times until finally I hear the melodious click of success, and I throw open the door to find...Huzzah!...there are contents within the vault!
But wait! Are said contents for moi? Alas, 3 are for my blasted boxmate. Foiled once again. Does he not know that mail checking is a daily--albeit hourly--responsibility for every self-respecting Ouachita student? How could he be so inconsiderate as to raise and crush my hopes with his postbox negligence? I know that mass-mailed tiger serve day announcement is not fresh. I mean, I recycled mine ages ago--hours even!
Gasp! But what's that!? Do I spy with my little eye an orange slip? Orange slip, orange slip! Blest be thee, orange slip! Art thou for me? Yes yes, you are indeed!
I hastily grab said orange slip as joy fills my heart. I slap my box shut and skip over to the post office window where a friendly work study worker greets me with a smile. She takes my slip and darts behind the wall to retrieve my glorious parcel. She returns carrying a box that, much to my heart's delight, is twice the size of my backpack! I check the return address! Alas, it is from my mom! She does love me!
I rip open the box only to find a bookmark, my medical insurance card, and three socks I left at home over Christmas break. I sigh, trying to suppress my disappointment. I check my watch. 30 minutes until my next class. Perhaps I should take my non-chocolate-chip-cookies package back to my room. It really is quite cumbersome. But wait! My friends are still in class. If I head back now, how are they to observe that someone loves me 12" by 14" by 6" and $6.47 S&H's worth? They don't have to know that my box's contents are far less exciting than its exterior.
I decide to stick around student center for a while. I choose to sport my package on my shoulder rather than risking the floor's dust or the couch's obstruction of the view of my box to peers passing by. I mean, I would hate for someone to lose out on the blessing of getting to congratulate me on my mail-time luck!
As I wait, a song fills my heart..."here's the mail....it never fails...it makes me wanna wag my tail. When it comes I wanna yell: Maaaaaiiiiill--lllll!"
**The idea for today's SOL was submitted by James Taylor. Thanks, J.T.!
I still remember my box number, more than two decades later -- 3084. I think I still remember the combination, too, but I won't reveal it here! Thanks for the memories!
ReplyDeletei like the title "bird-gram" i may have to steal that for etsy or something.
ReplyDeleteYep, I remember mine ages later too... 3582. I once checked the combination (back when I remembered it) and it still worked.
ReplyDelete