Monday, the high was 29. Today, it is 73. I'm so confused.

I am bored to tears with rich, white, male, old politicians. This representative republic is so not representing me. One has to wonder if George Bush chose Dan Quayle as a Vice-President because he reminded him of family.

So it will cost another penny to haul your mail around. It's astounding, really. I managed to misplace an entire stack of Christmas cards I'd intended to send, not finding them until yesterday (oops), yet for just 34 hundreths of a dollar, the US Postal Service will fling one of those little 4" x 6" pieces of paper all the way across the country and deliver it to a specific individual—in about two days! My father shipped a book to me once, and it took overlong to arrive. When it finally did, I saw why. My father's notoriously bad handwriting made the H in my last name look like an A, so the Post Office couldn't match it with the record of my forwarding address. But there on the label was the handwriting of some postal employee who had deciphered what the letter was supposed to be, allowing my package to be sent speedily on its way to me. They're like code crackers. It's phenomenal. So 34 cents for a first class letter is jes' fine by me.

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