Post Office:1 Me:0

My original intent was to mail our invitations wrapped up cutely in twine, tied in a bow, securely fastening an additional information tag to the outside:

Personal picture of the invitation suite fitting tidily into the envelope, tied with twine.

Well Mr. Post Office, you win.

You teased me with an initial belief that I could have my cake and eat it too when I was originally quoted a price of 85 cents an invitation. I was even willing to pay the next quoted price of a $1.05 to keep my precious’s wrapped prettily. But I knew those faces behind the counter didn’t mean it. I could tell that the shaking heads of colleagues on either side were really meant for me. Silly girl, if you run that package through our machines it will be eaten alive.

But then, (then!) when you finally decided to level with me and tell me the ugly, undeniable truth, that my invitation envelope was too thick and qualified as a “package” and no longer as a “letter”, what is a girl to do when said package now costs $1.98 to mail? You win! We will no longer attempt to mail our invitations tied-up nice and orderly in a little package. We have decided to sacrifice the aesthetics and attractiveness of our invitation suite and opted for the more economical route of throwing all our paper products willy nilly into the envelope with no order established whatsoever. My rational side has decided to finally prevail. That’s what happens with the dollar signs start to add up.

Personal picture of invitation suite scattered haphazardly throughout the envelope.

I however, will have the last laugh (although it will end up more of a snicker and less of a deep bellied laugh). I am determined as ever to hand deliver as many of our invitations as possible so that at least a few of our guests will get to gaze upon the amazing-ness that should have been viewing pleasure for all. But you stole that opportunity from them! You took it like a thief in the night and didn’t even think twice.

*sigh. No one cares as much as I do. No one cares as much as I do. No one cares as much as I do. No one cares as much as I do.

I’ll repeat this ten more times in the hopes that it will eventually sink in.

Did the post office throw you an unexpected curve ball? Or did they offer you a more rainbows and unicorns type experience?