I sent my dad a birthday card last month, and, a few days after receiving said birthday card (with birthday gift announcement on the inside), he called me to thank me.
"By the way," he says. "How much do stamps cost these days?"
"How ever much I slapped on your birthday card. I don't know."
"Clearly, because you stuck a $0.41 stamp on it."
"Postage isn't $0.41 anymore? When did this change occur? Why wasn't I informed?"
My mother pipes in, because they are on speaker phone, "You were informed. We all were. Don't you ever watch the news?"
"Oh I don't care what goes on in the world! I've got too much going on here in my little world! So, you got your card, right? I mean, shoot! I've been mailing all my bills with those stupid stamps. I've got a whole friggin' roll of them. Seriously! WHEN. DID. THIS. HAPPEN."
"I believe it was in May."
So, I've been leaving a trail of "you owe $0.01 towards postage" all up and down the Eastern Seaboard all summer long, and I'm sorry, but yes, I'm slightly bitter about the whole thing, because, quite honestly, when Uncle Sam decided to change the postage ... AGAIN ... it was right during the whole END OF THE SCHOOL YEAR HELL ON EARTH THAT DRIVES TEACHERS TO DRINK HEAVY AMOUNTS OF ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING THEY CAN GET THEIR HANDS ON, ESPECIALLY AFTER FIELD DAY time period, and really, who can blame me for not knowing.
And yes, I'm slightly resentful that I didn't know this or other key pieces of information in my daily life. I mean, Mr. Visa really doesn't care that I've not had an afternoon to call my own for a week and a half due to UMPTEEN after-school meetings so I've not had time to go to the bank. Nope. He doesn't care one bit. Nor does Mr. Truck Engine care that I've not had time to get an oil change, let alone actually get a hold of anyone at the garage during the one, 15-minute time period I can actually call them ... or attempt to. I don't have time to vacuum or drag my recycling in, or date! And I'm sorry, but could someone please define THAT word to me, cuz I'm not sure I could form a definition for the word DATE, let alone put it into context.
Nope. Uncle Sam really doesn't care that I can't keep track of his postage changes, but Geez Louise, thank the Lord in heaven for the two AWESOME guys that deliver my mail here, cuz I've received mail that merely had my name and the name of the street, and that's it, sometimes not even in English! Even though, the guy back home in Michigan could list off all of my immediate family members, plus, first, second, and third cousins, and each of their pets' names, but couldn't manage to get my mail delivered to my house even if it had EVERY required letter and number on it. So, extra postage money to my mail guys, who rock my bitter, resentful world.
Now, if you will excuse me, Zen Megan must go find a bag of Skittles to ravage ...