The care package debacle.

I walked into the Concord post office at noon yesterday, not knowing that it was "officially" (meaning announced on the news) the busiest post office day of the year. The line wound around the entire office and out the door, but Brian's holiday care package was already long overdue. I took my place at the back of the line and sighed.

I heard the jingle of the door behind me and glanced back to see an elderly lady enter, wearing a head-to-toe outfit in black and burgundy paisley. She even wore a custom-made Santa hat with black fur trim in the same paisley pattern. I laughed inwardly because I imagined her planning her outfit thinking she'd look marvelous. I thought she looked insane.

And then someone began to sing.

"Feliz navidad, hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm...I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas...hmm hmm hmm hmm..."

It was the woman behind me, warbling merrily while noisily ripping shreds of tape to finish the 5 boxes she had on the ground. The lyrics were fractured and incomplete, because she didn't know the section in Spanish. The 15 people in front of us in line all sighed loudly, shifting in their spots to convey their disdain.

The singing continued, at full volume, for the next half hour.

By the time I'd rounded half the room, I was twitching and trying to sing other songs in my head to counteract her incessant Feliz Navidad marathon. After losing myself in the insanity of her singing for another several minutes, I realized that I'd suddenly and unexpectedly moved to the front of the line.

I nervously walked up to the window and placed my Customs form on top of my box. The clerk immediately frowned and gruffly grabbed the form from me. "You're missing the military statement with initials, the total cost of all items inside the package, and you didn't tape the bottom. I need you to move out of line and get that done immediately."

My heart sank. I'd sent out packages before, but it had been over a year and the protocols had changed. I also forgot that the bottom of my box had been folded (flaps interlocking) instead of being taped shut, but I had no tape. I panicked when I realized I'd have to stand in line again, and I motioned to the eccentric singing lady to take my place in line.

"Oh no darling you stay right where you are," she said as she walked up to my window and knelt down to help me.

Apparently she and everyone else in line had heard the conversation, and I was absolutely mortified. She handed me a Sharpie to help write the appropriate information on the box, and I sniffed loudly when the scent of the marker hit my cold nose.

"Honey are you crying?" she asked. I definitely hadn't been, but she triggered something. An indescribable piece of me snapped, deep down in my soul, and I began to cry.

In retrospect I still can't pinpoint what the hell made me lose it. I was frustrated and a little upset at the clerk for being so impatient, but I hadn't realized how truly on edge this month had put me until I suddenly found myself kneeling on the floor of the post office, bawling my eyes out.

I shit you not - I cried like a little girl, in the middle of a crowd of perfect strangers.

After scribbling all the pertinent information, I handed the Sharpie back up to the clerk and the singing lady helped me tape my box flaps. She rubbed my back the whole while, coaching me through it enough that I was able to pull myself together and stand back up without any tears on my face. I hurriedly shoved the box at the clerk and looked away.

"Sir what is your name? You shoud be polite to this young lady. Happy holidays," she said. She was neither self-righteous nor berating, merely suggestive. When I glanced up at his face again, he muttered something about "not getting special treatment" which I assumed he meant in reference to my package being for a military member.

He was absolutely right, not that I'd expected special treatment whatsoever, and I was completely ready to leave that place as fast as possible. He scribbled "SAM" on all four sides of my box (I'm still not sure what that meant) then placed it on the pile of packages behind him. I thanked him half-heartedly and rushed out of the post office.

Unfortunately, my angel in paisley had already finished sending her packages at the next window and left before I had a chance to thank her.

I'm still not sure how I feel about the incident - whether I should still be mortified, or if I should regard it as cathartic, or if I should forget it ever happened. What I am very sure of is that I need to unwind and I need to do it soon, because that outburst of emotion was completely out of character for me. What a way to start the week.