f**k the usps (therapeutic venting)

i am seething with anger. it is palpable, and it is flowing out of my body like sweat. i stink of rage.

i am also observing that anger from a distance. it feels very alien, and it makes me laugh to see what kind of power it can have. i'm drifting back and forth between detached examination and being overcome by hatred at an elusive yet omnipresent force called the United States Postal Service. yeah, hatred is a good word. hatred for making me wait without any indication that anything is wrong. hatred for not accomplishing the task i paid you to accomplish. and in the end we are utterly helpless because no remittance or pacifying gesture can recover lost time.