Lost in the mail
Decided to check on the administrative progress toward new health care documents. Turns out that the cards were issued in mid-August, and mailed to me. That’s where things sour. I didn’t receive them. The clerk on the other end took no blame for the error, and suggested I check with the local post office “to see if they were holding an envelope for me”. I pointed out that I’m one of the fortunate Canadians; all MY mail arrives in a locked Superbox cubicle. When I asked if she could mail me another copy, she pointed out that if they hadn’t made it this time, they might not on a second try.
I requested, in a formal voice, that since we’d already waited almost a month, it was worth a second try (to me). And so, maybe, perhaps, in a couple of weeks, I’ll get an envelope containing the key to my contact with anyone of the medical persuasion. The requirement to remain healthy, in the interim, is unspoken. And for the record, their office doesn’t DO registered mail, because, you know, things rarely get lost in transit. Grr!
Last evening, the talented member of our couple went off to a session of speed-painting. Art, not walls. The results were excellent, and I now have to watch out. We could be on the cusp of an artistic revival here. After all, three hours from brush down to dry is actually comparable to the time it takes to get a photograph out for viewing. My role will remain unchanged; to inspire.
