I’ve driven an automatic vehicle three times in my life, one of them was today. I sat in the driver’s seat and took a few moments to look at the levers and remembering how they worked. When I was a farmer, in another life, I bought a one-ton truck to take my lambs to market and bring home one-ton bags of barley.
The first time I drove it I spent at least ten minutes trying to get the key out of the ignition before realizing I had to put it in park. Today, after momentarily panicking when I couldn’t find the clutch, I managed to back it out of my employer’s driveway and drive off. I had to keep reminding myself there were no gears and it was OK to keep my foot on the accelerator although I still felt a flutter of dread in my stomach every time I drove up to a stop sign or red light.
I was more than glad to get rid of it, get back in my own vehicle and head off to the post office. I was expecting to pick up a returned priority express letter I had sent to my son in Vancouver. Was Canada post unable to deliver it? It wasn’t there.
I came straight home to phone them up to find out where it was. When I told the representative I wanted her to look for it right now she was incredulous. They were supposed to be sending it back to me on August 10, today is August 17. I pointed out to her that Canada post had had 6 business days to deliver it back to me.
She said it was coming by truck but she didn’t know exactly where it was. I told her the priority insured letter, which I had paid $9.45 cents to send to my son contained his passport and a government check and I could have walked from Vancouver to Prince George in less than six days with the letter.
I suppose she was trying to calm me down because she offered to put a trace on my letter and she said it was safe. ” What do you mean it’s safe?” I said. “you just told me you didn’t know where it was, I bet someone has stolen it and is using my son’s passport right now for nefarious purposes.” She cut me off to put me on hold while she waited for her supervisor to talk to me.
I heard a knock on the door. It was the Insurance Agent come to take photos of my wood stove and the house. Surrounded by piles of dirty snow and acres of mud, which I’m going to hydro-seed with a slow-grow, no-mow legume and grass mixture when it warms up, the house does not look its best. Not having railings on the deck wasn’t good either. I assured him it was on our long list of things to finish when the snow melted and the mud dried up.
The phone rang it was Canada Post telling me the trace for my letter was a top priority because it contained a passport but because they were in Ottawa, 3 hours ahead it was now 5 PM, they couldn’t do anything until tomorrow. Humpf. I still think they have lost my letter.