Post Office Adventure

A long time back my DS broke. I decided to use Nintendo's option for a new, half-price DS rather than send that one in to get fixed, so then I had two DSs, one functional and one just taking up space. I figured I'd get it fixed one day, and then I'd have two DSs. That'd be pretty great.

If any of you remember myblog about my brother's skills, he chickened out when he saw just how small the object was he had to fix and so the DS didn't get fixed. Recently I was on a classifieds website and saw someone advertising a DS repair service. That reminded me of the old pink one gathering dust in my room. But that service was expensive. I figured I could find it cheaper, and, soon enough, I did. This service wasn't local, but paying the shipping fees was still cheaper than getting it from the local guy. So today I ordered that one.

Of course, that meant a trip to the post office to ship my DS out. Unfortunately, my mom's car's fan belt broke the other day and so she was using my car. Eh, the post office isn't that far away. I stuck the things in my purse and started walking. I got about a block before the thought came to me that it would be even faster to ride my bike. So I walked back to get my bike out.

It had a low tire, but that wasn't much of a problem. A brief search for the pump, and soon I was ready to go. I biked down, stuck my bike in the bike rack, and headed into the post office.

There was a bit of a line, so I waited. When the time came that I was next, I suddenly realized I'd forgotten something vital: the address.

Out I rushed. I got back on my bike, and came to the disappointing realization that it was all uphill back to my house. Winter is a bad time to exercise when you live in a mountain valley, so I'm out of shape, but I started pumping up that hill determinedly despite.

It's been a few months since I've ridden my bike, which, mind you, is 20 years old (older than me e.e). In those few months, it apparently developed Alzheimers and forgot how to switch gears. This is a heavy duty mountain bike, and pedaling it up steep hills on the hardest setting is... not great. But, however slowly, I made it home again, legs aching, lungs heaving, and entirely rather wet since it started raining on the way.

Needless to say, I was not biking back there. My parents were both at my little sister's track meet, so I decided I'd walk the line a bit and take the Suburban. My dad doesn't like me driving it much, since it's such a big car, and I don't like driving it much either for the same reason, but I was taking it anyway.

I probably drove it down slower than I was riding my bike uphill, but we made it down safely, I parked the behemoth, and went in to ship my DS out.

That all went very well. The postage man was very worried about shipping an electronic and bundled it up nicely for me, I paid for it, and drove home with a bit more confidence.

So ultimately, this is more of a bike riding adventure, but I did go to a post office at two points in the story so I titled this as an adventure there.

In case you're interested, I'm two for two in forgetting the address when making a shipment.

Dumb warning labels

I do have a terrifying story about my experience with a policeman to tell you, but I'll do that on a day when I have more time.

Until then, enjoy this article.

I certainly did. The Jet Ski warning is probably my favorite, if only for the commentary on it.