Stamp of Approval

I love sending and receiving mail. Real mail. The kind that requires postage.

Back in the land of my alma mater, going to the Post Office was one of my favorite things to do. I was on a first name basis with Charlie, the greatest postman in America. If there were a TV show like Postal Idol, Charlie would enter and WIN, hands down.

Charlie would always pull out all of the new stamp options for me to choose from, and never made me pay for bubble wrap, tape or the like. When books of my favorite stamps (usually the American quilts, children's book characters or Disney) were on the verge of selling out, Charlie would put a couple aside for me, knowing I'd be glum if I came by and they were sold out.

On my walk to work every day I would see Charlie sitting outside the building on a bench, enjoying the sunshine until his day started. He was always so happy-go-lucky and cheery, that just a wave from across the way kind of made my day. I didn't even bother stopping into the Post Office if Charlie wasn't behind the counter. It just seemed like a waste.

Trips to the Post Office in my new town are not nearly as delightful. Granted any postman seems lackluster compared to Charlie, but Glen, my new guy, he's a great disappointment. His chit chat pales in comparison, and is on the verge of creepy/flirtatious/stalkery. Maybe I'll just start ordering stamps online...

P.S. How about these jury duty stamps? Weird, huh?

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