This morning I went to the post office to mail two medium size boxes. I got out of the car, and stopped to try to figure out how I should juggle the two boxes, Sophia, and the two letters I had to mail. After assessing the situation, I stuck the letters in my jacket pocket, grabbed the carseat with Sophia is tow (heavy!), and then somehow managed to balance one box on the other and teetered up the sidewalk, while a man of about 65 watched in amusement.
As I approached the door, a new challange arose. How would I open it? Aha! Just my luck! A man of about 45 was just exiting the building, and since it was quite obvious I was struggling, I was sure he would hold the door for me. No such luck. He looked at me as I stumbled by and went on his merry way. I pushed my way into the building, slightly annoyed at the lack of courtesy. I quickly walked to the mail-it-yourself machine since the line was a mile long, set Sophia down, and dropped the packages. As soon as I did so, I reached for my wallet. No wallet. SHOOOOOOOT! It was out in the car still. I scanned my options, or lack thereof: I can't leave Sophia in here while I go grab it. I can't leave the packages either, people will think it's a bomb. Crap.
Somehow I managed my balancing act once again, retreived the wallet and stormed up the sidewalk, agitated. Here, the story repeats itself. This time, a man of about 40 was walking one step in front of me as I struggled and stumbled, and he let the doors close in my face. Sweet.
I stormed full speed ahead at the package machine, and noticed a moment later with a slight bit of satisfaction that the inconsiderate man was standing behind me in line to use the machine.
I took my sweet old time.