A postal tour
In the greater scheme of things, it was probably a cheap lesson. Today I went to the post office, to pick up a parcel. One that I had mailed, a scant two months ago. In the octave of weeks, the postal services of two great nations took my parcel for a long, leisurely ride around the continent, affixing stickers to show the progress of the journey. And in a final hurrah, they sent it back to the point of origin.
The cost wouldn’t pay for a good meal in a restaurant. Maybe it served to test their systems, or train a new hire. The total failure to deliver might be a mark of success, in certain circles. I’ll try not to be bitter. I’ll also try to find a more reliable method for sending something in future. Are there still places where you can hire passenger pigeons?
Today is my favourite “not yet” holiday. While we spend half of the year either worrying about or surviving winter, the powers that be still haven’t got around to putting an official stamp on Groundhog Day. Yes, we still celebrate the birthday of a queen that died before cars and planes were commonplace. In Quebec, we keep finding new reasons (and names) for the holiday, in an overt act of non-celebration. And yet, the midpoint of winter remains open to interpretation. Could we start again, please?
I want my country to recognize that a sleepy rodent has as much value as a departed monarch. At least the groundhog doesn’t want to bite the hand that feeds it.
