I am sitting on my couch watching the clouds move from my right to my left. This means they are moving east to west. From a meteorological perspective it means the low pressure must be to the south of me moving northeast. There is a cold New England April rain falling and it’s a brisk 42 degrees outside.
I could have told you what the weather was outside and the location of the low pressure based on the aching pain in my leg. Funny thing is that when I took a second look at the xray I didn’t see any barometer in my leg. Ah, the joys of being old.
You’d think the combination of my leg and the weather would put me in a rather foul mood. Ah, my blog reading friends – this is not the case.
I went to the Post Office today to get my stack of bills and catalogs before my PO Box gets to jammed and I receive another nasty-gram from the Post dude. You know that nasty-gram telling me that if I continue to not pick up my mail I am going to have to rent a bigger (more expensive) PO Box. I wonder if at some point I’d have to get a PO Box bigger than the actual building….hmmmmm….interesting exercise in logic.
All that said, I have now been tending to my box on a regular basis and it is squeeky clean. Nothing better than a well tended, squeeky clean box.
So I pick up my mail and need to mail a check for yet another bill. I walk over to the lobby area because I need to buy a stamp to mail the check and find a slow moving line of 8 people. I walk over to the end of the line and fall in behind an older gentleman with a number of letters to mail.
He turns and looks at me and then at the aircast on my leg and asks if I want to go in front of him. I thank him profusely and tell him, “no thanks, it’s actually good for me to stand in line, you know, part of my physical therapy.” He laughs and asks again and I respond, “no thanks.”
Then it happened. He turned back around and looked at the single letter in my hand and asked if all I was doing was buying a stamp to mail that letter. I said, “yes.”
Next thing I know he reaches into his wallet and hands me a stamp and says, “here, have one of mine, please.” He continued, “There’s no need for you to have to stand in line with your leg.”
I took the stamp and tried to pay him for it, knowing full well he wouldn’t accept .
I looked him in eyes and thanked him profusely. He smiled and said, “you’re welcome.”
With that I placed the stamp on the envelope and dropped it into the “Out-of-Town” slot and left the Post Office. As I walked out I noticed his license plate (the only other car in the parking lot) and his license plate read:
I smiled to myself and thought, “yes sir, you most definitely are a magic one.
So Mr. Magic, where ever you are a big thanks. Not only for the stamp but for warming me to my core on this otherwise cold New England spring day.