A Day at The Post Office: The True Account

0700  Start your day by standing in line to swipe your always reliable card through the always reliable time clock.  After several attempts, your card will be accepted and you are now ready to get your vehicle keys and begin your day.  Follow your eager uniformed colleagues outside for a vehicle inspection.  Attempt to start your LLV(Long Life Vehicle).  The starting ability will directly correspond to your level of health and temperament.  Four inflated tires and an emergency brake that isn't frozen in place will have you whistling a happy tune on your way back inside with the same uniformed colleagues, some of whom need post-vehicle inspection counseling, judging by the frequency of words starting with the sixth letter of the alphabet.  Once you reenter the building, you'll want to assess the workload.  Your evaluation will have you well-prepared when your boss comes by to ask you for a commitment.  He or she will be looking for a departure time and a return time for your assigned route.  Keep your responses monosyllabic and try to gaze off in the distance.  Mastering this approach to management will keep you off the radar, unlike the sixth letter guy who has just been called to the office over the intercom.  While you're sorting your mail, you'll want to listen attentively to the daily accident report, a list of yesterday's unfortunate injuries.  Imagine the hit TV show Wipeout as an audiobook narrated by Ben Stein.  Actual reports have included bee stings, cat attacks, and paper cuts, all of which usually require four to six weeks of bed rest.  These mishaps might explain the lack of manpower represented in your office in the last quarter, requiring you to adjust your nose a little closer to the grindstone.  Asking yourself questions about why you showed up today is inadvisable, just take comfort in knowing that you'll be able to claim a medical restriction for that hair transplant surgery you'll need in your fifties.

Now that you've sorted your mail, you are ready to hit the streets.  Bundle up in preparation for the horizontal snow that just blew in from the mountains of Moria.  Balance your temperament before braving the cold, because inevitably some well-intended pedestrian will quip, "Neither snow, nor sleet, nor hail . . ."  The thousandth time you hear this will be the one thousandth incorrect variation of this famous creed, but try not to let it bother you.  Soon it will be summer and this friendly greeting will be replaced by the ever popular postal motto, "Hot enough for ya?"

1750  Clock out repeatedly until authorized to leave for the day.  Congratulations on completing a grueling 10-hour shift at the post office.  On your way home, consider reporting dry skin conditions as a work-related injury, then you won't have to fill in for the co-worker who took last year off to recover from stepping on a pine cone.  Also, remember to bring your leaf blower to work tomorrow. Maintenance hasn't dusted your workstation in a few months, and power tools do save time.

Les Miserables, The Hobbit, and Moby Dick

The book really is better than the movie.

First of all, it's simple economics, considering the astronomical cost of viewing the latest overhyped, well-reviewed, Oscar-nominated 3-hour masterpiece.  I like to plan ahead, so I tapped into my 401K so I could see Les Miserables and The Hobbit.  I would have seen The Hobbit in 3D, but apparently even retirement loans have a threshold.  Still, I felt a little better when the soda sommelier cheerfully informed me that I was entitled to a complimentary refill.  Later I realized her insincerity after failing to finish the first liter.  Once I was settled in my theater seat, I endured 15 minutes of tantalizing trailers urging me to come back and have loads of fun watching the only two people left on the planet figure out that they're not alone after all, followed by 5 more minutes of upcoming crowd-pleasers that would probably appeal to me if my brain consisted of Redi-Whip.  Finally, I was able to relax and enjoy Gandalf singing "Bring Him Home."  That's the way I remember it, but I admit that my movie comprehension has never been precise.


As far as books go, I'm actually reading Moby Dick.  I usually read at least one classic each year, and this is the year of the White Whale.  Did you know that Herman Melville spends an entire chapter describing the color white?  Who does that?  Who even thinks of doing that?  He also has an entertaining chapter titled "The Sermon" in which the minister delivers the finest account of Jonah you'll ever encounter.  I'm still only halfway through the book, which means I've invested about $1.50 of the $2.99 I paid on my Kindle.  As a bonus, I get to read a well-reviewed masterpiece without any other authors vying for my attention, and fill my brain with vocabulary while sipping my favorite drink by the fireplace.  If you'd care to join me, I'll get you started.  Call me Ishmael.

Vapid Words of Torpidity

My wife has an extraordinary love for language, a love enhanced when she recently received the genius edition of Magnetic Poetry as a gift.  Magnetic Poetry is the whimsical refrigerator wordgame requiring you to form fun and imaginative sentences so the occasional refrigerator-reading guest in your home can exclaim with delight, "My, you are so clever!"  The genius edition contains words that require a thesaurus within arm's reach unless your last name is Melville or Twain.  I nibbled at the edges of intellect as I tried to form sentences of brilliant depth and meaning.  "Hence, the arid boor expunged fecund platitudes" is just one example of my tiny efforts.  As you can tell, successful word blends require careful consideration and deliberate thought.

What if each word we said was handpicked carefully, piecing together sentences with as much deliberation as a celebrity chef selecting the right spice?   I have to admit, I'm discouraged by our verbose zeal.  Eager to make our opinions count, we weigh in with haste, slathering the tongue with temerity.  The real national tragedy is the obtuse fusillade of weightless words in the midst of heartbreak.

This might just seem like a pithy admonition for "Argue less, listen more," but isn't it better stated "Talk less, listen more?"

In the Book of Job, Job's friends said a mouthful oblivious to God's context.  In 2013, why not resolve to be slow to speak?  Now that's a tough resolution for us all!