OK. I'm usually pretty chummy and chatty with everyone at the Dover post office, but today was a little weird even for me. I was at Eileen's window but Marty felt compelled to call me over and ask for my hand so he could put an "insured" sticker on me, which lead to a discussion as to what my value should be and whether I was liquid, fragile, perishable or all the above. Marty said fragile. Eileen said all of the above. I'd have to agree with her.
This somehow seems to me to be tied to an incident earlier this week at the photgrapher's house where he felt suddenly compelled to cross the room and offer me the potato chip he had in his hand. "Here, have a chip." I smiled and said thanks and ate the chip. What else would I do? It was cute.
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