Saturday, March 17, 2012

The unpleasantness and beauty of DC in March

It is really starting to feel like Spring here in Washington DC. And while I am truly loving the sunshine, my bedroom, which has 6 windows by the way, is like a sauna right now. I have basically stripped down to a pair of shorts and a tank top in an effort to not die of a heat stroke, but nothing seems to help. I can't open my windows because then all the hot air will come in. If I turn on the fan, all the hot air that's already in my room will just circulate around and will make me want to die even more. And I certainly can't dump a whole bunch of ice onto my floor and lay in it until I'm sufficiently cooled off, but I would be lying if I told you I didn't already consider that. I'm seriously dying!! The upside to all of this is that, with the invention of a door, I actually can leave my room, though I usually opt to just stay here when there's really nothing else to do. But today, I decided I should get out of my concealed little steam room and go enjoy some fresh air, seeing as the weather is beautiful outside. Since I had to go down to the post office to ship a little package to some people back home, I saw this as the perfect opportunity to sport some green ( HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!) and my new jeans that came in just this morning in the mail, and head down to the post office.

Can I just say, I love DC in the spring?? Seriously, it is perfectly warm, there is a slight breeze and everything is starting to bloom. The highlight of my walk to the post office was seeing some cherry blossoms starting to show on the trees. I was dumbstruck. I walked right up to one of the trees and I think I just stood there for a few minutes, but I can't remember because my jaw was dragging on the ground and I was professing my love to the blossoms in my mind. I especially love the bright pink ones and I secretly want to go out with a big bucket and pick them all and hang them around my room. That is my master plan for when I got down to the National Mall to see the Cherry Blossom Festival. I will definitely be bringing a huge bucket with me.

After lots of sweating ( you see, I wasn't expecting it to be so hot outside, so I wore a pair of jeans and a 3/4 sleeved shirt and the walk is pretty long, so you can just imagine what I looked like walking in the sun), I finally made it to the post office. I must admit, this is sort of my first time shipping a package anywhere so I didn't know what to expect. But, I learned two things during my little adventure.
1. People are really nice and helpful when you are confused and you need important advice
2. People are jerks...
I walked in looking for a box to put all the little goodies in, but I looked really stupid trying to figure out which box I should pick. One old lady walked up to me and told me to pick the flat rate ones because they are cheapest. So I picked up one of those and attempted to start to fold it, only to again look really retarded. Apparently it requires some skill to fold a piece of cardboard into a functioning box. So, she walked over again and helped me put it together. Thank goodness for helpful old ladies who are educated in the art of shipping packages. Oh! I also learned that the line at the post office takes a very long time to progress. Wow. I seriously stood in line for 20 minutes, with my little box in hand just waiting to check out and get out of there already. My time finally came, I walked up to the lady all confident in myself, which only lasted a second or two because then she started rambling off all these questions. Do you need insurance or tracking??
Is there anything perishable??
Do you need any stamps??
ummm yes?
 Ok, what kind do you want??
ummmmm what??
What kind do you want?
 What do you mean? *awkward laugh*
Do you want a book of stamps or a sheet of stamps?
Oh! Nevermind, I don't need any stamps.
*some angry mumbling that I could not understand* Swipe your card!
Oh! ok. *fumbling for my debit card and frantically trying to figure out which way to swipe it*
Ok have a nice day ma'am. . .
Whoa. Scariest and most intimidating conversation I have ever had. She was talking a mile a minute and I had no idea all the little phrases she was saying were about. Like why would I need insurance for a package? And even if there was anything perishable in the box, what would it matter?? I don't get it. So, there you have it. People are nice and people are jerks. At least I will be more prepared for the next time I decide to ship a package, which will probably be never, seeing as I am scarred for life from this past experience. I think I will just stick to letters and mail boxes from now on. No one yells at you at a mail box.

It is sad to say, but that was probably the most exciting thing that will happen today on this lovely holiday. I have no festivities planned, unfortunately. I love St. Patrick's day and I usually paint my nails green and wear greed eye shadow and eat gold coins and play lepraquan pranks on people, but I just wasn't feeling it this year, I guess. When no one else is really into it, it's hard to have the spirit, which makes me miss my dad. This is his favorite holiday since he served his mission in Ireland. Back in the good old days when I still lived at home, I had to make sure I was wearing green pajamas when I went to bed the night before because he would always wake us up and pinch us if we weren't wearing any green. He would shake our beds and yell in our ears, which normally would annoy me on any regular day, but nothing can make you grumpy on a holiday like St. Patrick's Day. Then, he would make green jello and dye the milk green to pour on our cereal, and of course we would eat potatoes in order to pay tribute to Ireland and their steady diet of starches and carbs. Ahhh the good old days. Wishing I could be home right now, but I guess sitting in my sauna of a room and wearing my new jeans will have to do for now.

I'm hoping you all have a lovely St. Patrick's day. Try not to get too wasted. . .er, I mean try not to eat too much green jello!! Until next time,
Your homesick ballerina

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