I have just returned to my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room after a dog-gone interesting trip to the post office. You always hear about "dis-gruntled postal employees" doing something weird or even nasty. Like shooting a president. But the lady who runs the local post office...we'll call her Mary Pat Susan because I don't want her to get in trouble for this in case the NSA or the lords of the postal service are listening and they don't like what she's doing. I figure that if there are dis-gruntled postal workers, there must be gruntled postal workers. And Mary Pat Susan must be the queen of the gruntled postal workers.