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The Saga of how I actually managed to FINALLY achieve a post office box today!
Hubby and I have a post office box for our bills and stuff, so our home address isn't spread all over hell and gone. He's held this box for a long long time, since he was in college, and unfortunately it's now inconveniently far. And since we take, like, YEARS to decide to do relatively unimportant crap like this (see also, buying flat screen t.v. and bicycles), I only recently decided to try to open a box near us.
Well, the post office doesn't like your i.d. having a p.o. box on it (what with terrorism and fraud and all), but all of ours does. Like I told the clerk, we do that ON PURPOSE. So they said they were going to have our local post office (the one who actually has our house, which is not the same one where I'm trying to open the box) verify we live there. So I wait. And wait. Nothing happens.
I go back, post office sends second request to home post office (which is only five miles away, max). Nothing. So today I bring in our mortgage statement because this is LITERALLY the only semi-official piece of paper we have connecting our names to the house, without digging up title papers. And it worked!
YAY we now have a bright and shiny new p.o. box! YAY!! When we finally get bikes we can bike there. I'll, uh, get right on that....
I notice they took out their automatic parcel mailing machines. I loved those! The lines at the p.o. aren't long enough, I guess. gah.
*
YOU GUYS, it's killing me to know Continuum is out there and I could watch it and yet, I really want to see it in pretty high-def FIRST... *whimper* MUST. STAY. STRONG.
And also, I need someone to tell me to get back to the beginning of "Not all that we are 2: Electric Bugaloo", because I'm writing scenes out of order and THAT LEADS TO NO GOOD END.
Hubby and I have a post office box for our bills and stuff, so our home address isn't spread all over hell and gone. He's held this box for a long long time, since he was in college, and unfortunately it's now inconveniently far. And since we take, like, YEARS to decide to do relatively unimportant crap like this (see also, buying flat screen t.v. and bicycles), I only recently decided to try to open a box near us.
Well, the post office doesn't like your i.d. having a p.o. box on it (what with terrorism and fraud and all), but all of ours does. Like I told the clerk, we do that ON PURPOSE. So they said they were going to have our local post office (the one who actually has our house, which is not the same one where I'm trying to open the box) verify we live there. So I wait. And wait. Nothing happens.
I go back, post office sends second request to home post office (which is only five miles away, max). Nothing. So today I bring in our mortgage statement because this is LITERALLY the only semi-official piece of paper we have connecting our names to the house, without digging up title papers. And it worked!
YAY we now have a bright and shiny new p.o. box! YAY!! When we finally get bikes we can bike there. I'll, uh, get right on that....
I notice they took out their automatic parcel mailing machines. I loved those! The lines at the p.o. aren't long enough, I guess. gah.
*
YOU GUYS, it's killing me to know Continuum is out there and I could watch it and yet, I really want to see it in pretty high-def FIRST... *whimper* MUST. STAY. STRONG.
And also, I need someone to tell me to get back to the beginning of "Not all that we are 2: Electric Bugaloo", because I'm writing scenes out of order and THAT LEADS TO NO GOOD END.