I went to the post office yesterday, which, considering my irrational fear of post offices and my aversion to leaving the house during apocalyptic rainstorms, was quite an accomplishment.
And suddenly this post has taken a dramatic turn because I was going to tell you about the hyperactive child I met there but instead I'm going to tell you about my irrational fear of post offices. It is irrational because I have no good reason to be afraid of it. My fear of phones is founded on the many, many, many awkward phone conversations I have had in my short life. My fear of stairs comes from all those stairs I have fallen down. (If I ever take you on a tour of BYU be prepared to see all of them. Stop 1: the library.) But I have never had an unsuccessful trip to the post office. I've had a few run-ins with they guy who mans the stamp room at the West Covina post office but who doesn't love a curmudgeonly stamp guy?
So, only good things have happened at the post office. And yet, I get all panicky at the thought of mailing things. And I will put it off to embarrassingly long lengths. Yesterday's package, for example, was Cynde's Christmas present. In my defense, I had all of the stuff way before Christmas and her parents were out here around New Years and I was going to send it back with them but we didn't get to meet up. So I started calculating when I would see Cynde again and if it was a short enough period to merit holding on to the gift. It wasn't. And the calculations took a few days. I'm slow at math. So I gathered my strength and packaged it all up and then put it in my car to taunt me. And it did taunt me - for a week. A week!!!! And here it is, nigh unto the end of January, and I just now mailed it off. Best Friend of the Year!
So, what is your irrational fear?