Taking a break from the deep, philosophical meanderings of recent posts, I'd like to say something about spring/ fall cleaning and the need for it to be done on many, many layers of life. To start with, here's a bit of background:
I live in a nice, quiet little apartment complex in a fairly decent area. Unfortunately, it is in a no-man's land, stuck between Denver and its outlying suburbs, barely inside one district despite being 10 blocks or less from all the amenities of another one, and pretty much right on the line between two counties. For almost eight months, I have been able to work around, deal with, or ignore this, and life has gone on relatively sedately. Until my birthday last month...
I adore my friends and family, really I do. I even love the fact that I only have one long-standing friend who lives in this state, and all the rest of them are horrible slackers, like me, when it comes to
getting things in the mail. What I do not love, in any way shape or form, is the retarded approach that the USPS has taken towards dealing with said packages. Being as that the apartment complex has small mailboxes, anything larger than, say, a small book cannot be delivered. Looking at this logically, there are a few ways to go about it.
The postman, I'm sure, probably does not want to walk up two flights of stairs to see if I'm home for a manual delivery. Despite the fact that I am home three out of six delivery days, I can understand a lack of desire to put in the extra effort. I don't like it, but I can understand it. So the next logical thing would be to drop it off at the apartment complex office and leave a note for me that it's there. But oh no! The office is across the street! And apparently that's too much effort, too. The only time this has been done was, naturally, on a Friday, when I get home after the office is closed and have to wait until Monday to get my package. Annoying, but I can live with it.
But no! What happens instead is that the postman leaves me a note saying he "couldn't deliver" my package, and I need to go to the post office to pick it up. The first time this happened, at first glance, it was no big deal. The post office is literally five blocks away, and I can and have biked or walked to it for exercise. Oh wait... it's too small to hold packages. Hmm, no worries, the next closest post office is ten blocks in the other direction, and huge- it takes up nearly as much space as the thrift store next to it. BUT NO! That's not where it's delivered to either! This is where I get frustrated...
The post office that holds on to my packages is six miles away, in the complete opposite direction from anywhere else I would need to go, past 3 other post offices, and requires me to drive through two other towns before getting to it. Even better, once you get to it, it can only be accessed from one direction- you have to either wiggle through residential neighborhoods or find your way behind another shopping center to get to the parking lot, despite it being directly on a major road. So even though I live six miles south of it, I have to go three more blocks north or west before I'm allowed to legally turn around and get into the parking lot. Good planning, you #$!%ers.
Once you get in though, it's not a quick in and out, oh no. Despite being the main post office for, apparently, half of Colorado, there are never more than two counters open, and it is manned only by people over 70. This, in and of itself, I don't mind. What I do mind is that they insist on listening patiently to all the other old people who come through the line and want to relate the story of their kidney operation that they went through last month, in gruesome, explicit, and excruciatingly slow detail. Or perhaps the story of how their adorable little (relative) got a jelly bean stuck up its nose and they had to call the fire department on the little rascal, ha ha ha. Seriously guys... go find somewhere else to chat that doesn't involve holding up a line of 20 or more people who have other things to do.
Moreover, the post office isn't the only annoyance. Despite being in a county that includes a good chunk of north Denver, the courthouse is literally 20 miles northeast of the city, out in cow country, USA. The closest DMV is 15 miles to the north (four towns away), and located in the dirtiest, most run-down, abandoned mall parking lot you've ever seen. And heaven forbid you need to do anything with Social Security. Or my credit union. Or the Passport offices. Or car registration or emissions testing. Or even getting service on my car. All of these amenities are at least ten miles away (of not more) in completely different directions. I swear, I live in a lost little vacuum of eff you. It's a lovely place to live, as long as you don't need to actually get anything done.
And so, I would respectfully suggest that, every once in a while, the government should get someone with a level head to take a look at the allocation of county and city lines. I'm sure that, back in the good ol' days, it was logical to have people who lived far from the bustling new town of Denver to take the conestoga out to cow country for their courthouse needs. After all, that's where the cowboys were working, and they could see to the safety of travelers who might come to harm in the big, confusing, dirty town. However, now that we have real roads and real suburbs, and the government has decided to regulate every single aspect of our lives... I would really appreciate being able to do things without visiting the local crack dens or the wild wild west. Cheers!
I live in a nice, quiet little apartment complex in a fairly decent area. Unfortunately, it is in a no-man's land, stuck between Denver and its outlying suburbs, barely inside one district despite being 10 blocks or less from all the amenities of another one, and pretty much right on the line between two counties. For almost eight months, I have been able to work around, deal with, or ignore this, and life has gone on relatively sedately. Until my birthday last month...
I adore my friends and family, really I do. I even love the fact that I only have one long-standing friend who lives in this state, and all the rest of them are horrible slackers, like me, when it comes to
getting things in the mail. What I do not love, in any way shape or form, is the retarded approach that the USPS has taken towards dealing with said packages. Being as that the apartment complex has small mailboxes, anything larger than, say, a small book cannot be delivered. Looking at this logically, there are a few ways to go about it.
 |
| The Easy Ways |
The postman, I'm sure, probably does not want to walk up two flights of stairs to see if I'm home for a manual delivery. Despite the fact that I am home three out of six delivery days, I can understand a lack of desire to put in the extra effort. I don't like it, but I can understand it. So the next logical thing would be to drop it off at the apartment complex office and leave a note for me that it's there. But oh no! The office is across the street! And apparently that's too much effort, too. The only time this has been done was, naturally, on a Friday, when I get home after the office is closed and have to wait until Monday to get my package. Annoying, but I can live with it.
But no! What happens instead is that the postman leaves me a note saying he "couldn't deliver" my package, and I need to go to the post office to pick it up. The first time this happened, at first glance, it was no big deal. The post office is literally five blocks away, and I can and have biked or walked to it for exercise. Oh wait... it's too small to hold packages. Hmm, no worries, the next closest post office is ten blocks in the other direction, and huge- it takes up nearly as much space as the thrift store next to it. BUT NO! That's not where it's delivered to either! This is where I get frustrated...
The post office that holds on to my packages is six miles away, in the complete opposite direction from anywhere else I would need to go, past 3 other post offices, and requires me to drive through two other towns before getting to it. Even better, once you get to it, it can only be accessed from one direction- you have to either wiggle through residential neighborhoods or find your way behind another shopping center to get to the parking lot, despite it being directly on a major road. So even though I live six miles south of it, I have to go three more blocks north or west before I'm allowed to legally turn around and get into the parking lot. Good planning, you #$!%ers.
 |
| Large-scale map... Close-up |
Once you get in though, it's not a quick in and out, oh no. Despite being the main post office for, apparently, half of Colorado, there are never more than two counters open, and it is manned only by people over 70. This, in and of itself, I don't mind. What I do mind is that they insist on listening patiently to all the other old people who come through the line and want to relate the story of their kidney operation that they went through last month, in gruesome, explicit, and excruciatingly slow detail. Or perhaps the story of how their adorable little (relative) got a jelly bean stuck up its nose and they had to call the fire department on the little rascal, ha ha ha. Seriously guys... go find somewhere else to chat that doesn't involve holding up a line of 20 or more people who have other things to do.
Moreover, the post office isn't the only annoyance. Despite being in a county that includes a good chunk of north Denver, the courthouse is literally 20 miles northeast of the city, out in cow country, USA. The closest DMV is 15 miles to the north (four towns away), and located in the dirtiest, most run-down, abandoned mall parking lot you've ever seen. And heaven forbid you need to do anything with Social Security. Or my credit union. Or the Passport offices. Or car registration or emissions testing. Or even getting service on my car. All of these amenities are at least ten miles away (of not more) in completely different directions. I swear, I live in a lost little vacuum of eff you. It's a lovely place to live, as long as you don't need to actually get anything done.
 |
| Who planned this??? |
And so, I would respectfully suggest that, every once in a while, the government should get someone with a level head to take a look at the allocation of county and city lines. I'm sure that, back in the good ol' days, it was logical to have people who lived far from the bustling new town of Denver to take the conestoga out to cow country for their courthouse needs. After all, that's where the cowboys were working, and they could see to the safety of travelers who might come to harm in the big, confusing, dirty town. However, now that we have real roads and real suburbs, and the government has decided to regulate every single aspect of our lives... I would really appreciate being able to do things without visiting the local crack dens or the wild wild west. Cheers!
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