Picked a package up at the post office today. Naturally that left me wanting to pull my hair out.
First hair yanking obstacle; the normal customs agent was not in. The guy who was filling in struggled with the forms, equations, and identifying what was in the box. He had a hard time believing that marshmallows were food.
After almost an hour of waiting he gives me the forms I have to take to the bank in order to pay the tax. I go and wait in line for another ten minutes or so, only to discover he did not give me enough copies of the form. Frustration building at this point. Thankfully I decided to not take it out on the bank teller.
Of course the bank had no means of photocopying the form. I walked around a bit till I found someone who could photocopy it. All the while wondering how much it would hurt to pull out handfuls of my hair.
Back at the bank, stand in line for another 10 minutes or so. Paying takes just a minute or two.
I must have suffered a moment of insanity because I stopped to talk to customer care about opening an account.
Each time I asked the woman a question she had to walk to the other side of the bank to ask her supervisor what the answer was. After the third one I found my hand straying up to my head and decided I better make a run for it before baldness became a part of my life.
I also wanted/needed to see a real estate agent concerning our search for a new house to rent. Went to the building where her office was supposed to be located. The whole place is closed for renovation. No signs indicating where her new place is, of course.
Now I’m thinking a drink would be nice, but it’s not even noon. I have safety protocols built in to prevent too many mental breakdowns, they kicked in.
My whole life slowed down and I relaxed. Few things can make me happy like food, so I started to think about lunch.
Before long my hair was safe, and I was on my way home for lunch.
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