having promised to ship the boyfriend the six boxes that didn't fit in his car when he drove home last weekend (a bet, by the way, which i won. i may not be good at very many things, but packing a car happens to be one of them), on today's list of things to do included a much-dreaded trip to the post office.

how many post office employees does it take to change a light bulb?
two: one to watch while the other screws the bulb into the water faucet.

how many post office employees does it take to overnight a letter?
three: but it will still take them 40 minutes (true story).

knowing that at least two of eric's six boxes were too heavy for me to carry, i strategically chose the post office in the "friendship heights" neighborhood of washington dc, erroneously thinking that chivalry was bountiful in an area named as such.

friendship heights, my ass.

no fewer than 3 burly men in muscle shirts -- in addition to a handful of capable women -- passed me as i lugged six huge boxes from my car to the curb. the curb to the door. the door to the side wall. and finally, the wall to the post office employee who was quite obviously pissed that i had so much work for him to do. i even made a point of making extra loud grunting noises so everyone within earshot at least knew that i was suffering. even if they didn't acknowledge it.

i'm not sure if chivalry is dead, but apparently the good kind of samaritan is hard to come by these days. with friends like these, who needs enemies?

i suppose i should have tried we'll-help-you-carry-your-boxes-hood. or at least mount pleasant.