Well, I’m getting through these days one by one. I spent most of today on payroll, but I also managed to get myself to Best Buy for something I needed. It wasn’t until I got home that I remembered I hadn’t shaved. I never leave the house when I haven’t shaved. Except, obviously, when I forget.

I don’t know why it matters. Apparently it doesn’t, because I didn’t even think about it while I was out. I’m glad I was wearing pants, because I don’t go out of the house without pants, either. Maybe some day I’ll forget, but by that time it will be about as big an issue as shaving. In other words, not one.

It wasn’t the fact that I was poorly groomed that kept me from storming off to the post office this afternoon. It was the usual, work. But if I hadn’t had that obligation, I would have been in the mood to make a big stink. My letter carrier today was apparently a substitute, because he (or she) left a slip in my mailbox telling me my package could be picked up at the office, and he (or she) was sorry he (or she) had missed me.

The only reason my letter carrier missed me was because that individual wasn’t inclined to drive the hundred feet from the road, down my driveway to my front door, to deliver the package. That’s how I know it was a substitute, because my regular guy knows not only how to get to the door, but also that I’m always home and there’s no excuse for leaving a note.

The weird part is that the beige slip was dated yesterday, and the notation the carrier made said that I could pick up the package after 10:00 am today. I don’t know how that would have been possible, since it didn’t get into my box until some time after 3:00 pm today. That’s what really ticked me off. Apparently he (or she) has been carrying my package around in his (or her) truck for at least two days.

Tomorrow I will shave, because even when I’m not leaving the house at all I can’t stand to go more than two days without shaving. And I’ll put on my pants and go to the post office and be perfectly polite to the clerk who had darn well better have a package waiting for me. And I’ll go to the bank, not to deposit the big check which still hasn’t come but to deposit a small check which did arrive at an opportune time. And then I’ll come home and work and hope that something more interesting happens that I can write a journal entry about. But my expectations in that regard are moderate at best.