Just add a sticker and life will be fine
Cue my trepidation. This is the one day of the year when strangers are apt to come to the door. Plus, I’m expected to give them “treats” out of fear of receiving “tricks”. I worry, from sunrise to sunset. And then, like a balloon with a small leak, the whole thing dissolves into not much at all. In the last three hours, four visitors. Almost exactly the number we received, certain years, in the big city. I can now put away the remainder of our goodies, as a store against winter.
I have to assume there was nothing in the postal delivery today. The union is involved in rotating strikes, nationwide, but my usual level of reception comes down to “occasionally”. How will I tell if my mail was delayed by a day of labour action in the city?
Son #2 has received his first shipment of empty cans (scheduled to be filled with beer from their new installation). Of course, there’s a small glitch; what else can you expect with a new process? In this case, a printing error on all one hundred and fifty thousand cans (I wrote that out, to avoid any error in transcribing large numbers). The cans, all shiny, new and empty, are missing two words.
The fix is to get some stickers printed up, and then apply them to all one hundred and fifty thousand cans (again, avoiding a transcription error). In a better world, this would immediately transform every can into a rare collector’s item, assuring that the stock sells out in record time. Probably won’t work that way. Instead, some young minds will get to try monotony as part of the job description.
