I need to get back to the Post Office today at a certain time.

The time is….earlier.

I need to BLAZE.

BLAZE….but extremely safely.

Last night, I was dreaming about boxes.

That’s the trouble….the will may be there, but I’m hobbled sometimes by a lack of space.

If I had a big van with unlimited cargo area, I could haul everything….but my Cherokee only hauls so much and then I have to worry about things a little. (Read this in the whiniest inflection imaginable.)

Handling the overflow is weird now that we deliver out of a town that’s miles away from our delivery zone.

So….I dream about boxes…piles and piles of huge boxes. I dream that I can’t even see my case for all the boxes. I dream that I can’t fit two of the big boxes in my Jeep at all. I dream that I can’t get my mail and the boxes to fit at the same time. I dream that I shuttle and shuttle and deliver and deliver….and it’s getting dark….and I’m missing my cutoff point….and….

All because of these boxes.

These hypothetical dream boxes.

Worry is a funny thing.

I worry about the worst scenario….and my imagination is strong enough that I can conjure all sorts of possible disasters.

Funny. Strange.

THAT’S HOW I ROLL, THOUGH!!! A CATCHER IN THE RYE IN AN AREA THAT ISN’T KNOWN FOR PLANTING GRAIN.

What the heck….I’ll make it.

If I’m dragging a suitcase of angst behind me, I’ll just drag a little faster….pull a little harder.

No matter how much easier it would be if I put all my worries in an old kit bag….(and SMILE, SMILE, SMILE)….I will make it.

Except for all this worrying, I’ve got it MAJOR EASY!!!

Stupid boxes.