If ever I sense that I'm becoming too big-headed and full of myself, I now know exactly where to go.

The Truro post office.

Day One. I walk into the post office at one o'clock. "Hi!" I say. "I'm here to set up general delivery!"

Surly Post Office Lady scowls at me. "How long are you gonna be here?"

Me: "Most of the summer."

SPOL: "Well, we only do general delivery for thirty days. Longer than that, you need a box."

Me: "Okay, then, can I get a box?"

SPOL: "No, we're out of boxes. Gonna have to be general delivery."

Me: "Um, okay, then."

SPOL: "We sort the mail for the boxes first, so don't come in here first thing in the morning thinking we'll have your mail."

Me: "Oh, no, I wouldn't do that!"

SPOL: "Come in the afternoon."

So I filled out my forms and signed my name and put my name on the waiting list, and today, I came back at 4:20 or so, waited in line behind a family from France sending postcards, and asked a different surly post office lady whether I had any mail.

"No," she said, pointing at me accusingly. "And you shouldn't come in here for general delivery so late!"

Me: "But...but the other lady said..."

The DSPOL glared at me, and I think I came within two seconds of rolling my eyes and asking sarcastically, "Well, what time would be good for YOU?"

If you're reading this and need to send me something, try FedEx.

Jen