So about that nutmeg…
Despite leaving no contact information with the Korean post office they managed to track me down (via my boss, via his boss. KOREAN POSTAL SERVICE HAS EYES EVERYWHERE) to inform me that there was a problem with a package I was sending to the United States.
FOR THE LAST TIME, PEOPLE. IT’S THE REPUBLIC OF GEORGIA. NOT THE STATE.
So Friday saw me, again, trekking to the Chilgok Post Office. I am pretty sure that the security guard is in love with me by now. It’s the damsel in distress thing. I can’t help it.
As it turns out, I am not as clever as I thought. (That this is occurring with alarming frequency these days, I pointedly ignore.) The mail services people refused to send my package 1. without phone numbers for sender and receiver and 2. with powdered nutmeg.
The silver lining to this was that the agonizingly helpful clerk from last time assured me that she fought for me over the nutmeg, which made me happy, despite the gnawing sense that as a big fat liar I deserved neither advocacy nor sympathy. This is what happens when you try to cheat the system (the arbitrary, pointless system). I got over that pretty quickly though.
Since this Friday is Thanksgiving Prom (don’t know what that is? Tune in next week. Two-word teaser: belly dancers.) it may be another two weeks before this ill-fated box is on its way. Alas and alack. But Agonizingly Helpful Clerk had a gleam in her eye as I left the post office on Friday, a gleam that seemed to say: “Fear not, little box, for I shall not be bested again.”
(Listen, if you’d gone through all of this over one care package too you WOULD NOT ACCUSE ME OF BEING OVERLY DRAMATIC.)