My Voice is My Passport. Verify Me.

"The Post Office is the Post Office but this one moved into a new building across the street to the detriment of customer service. While the old building was old there were more service windows and attendants. Sure, on-street parking was bad for the old one but the parking lot for the new one is terribly cramped, especially at busy times like lunch time and Christmas - it's just a mess. I avoid using the downtown office and go to Star City instead. They are smaller but much better." - Random Review of Morgantown Post Office

In May, I voiced that I wanted a passport.

And in May the price to get a passport was about $100.

I was told we could not afford it, and that I didn't need it.

In June, I started googling phrases such as "how to get a passport".

In July, the price of a passport went from about $100 to $135.

In August, I printed out the online forms and completed them. The usps has a helpful page on where to go "Find the closest Post Office to submit your passport application."

I clicked it. Go ahead, click the link on that page.

You get a big white screen of nothing titled, "USPS Exit Page".

In September, I was driving past the Star City Post Office and saw this banner:

Each day I drove past this banner, and waited and waited to get the money.

My friend Stephanie invited me to her Canadian wedding, so I would need to get my passport soon.

In October, I got paid enough money for my passport, and raced home and began collecting my forms, and my birth certificate. When I opened the lock box, I discovered the lack of my birth certificate! It was missing!

I googled "how do you get a copy of your birth certificate?".

I completed the form online.

I received an email stating they were unable to complete my request.

In November, an unexpected expense came up and I spent a good portion of my passport money on that.

Also in November a back-up copy of my birth certificate was found at my mother's house, so I planned the next day to submit the forms.

I drove to the post office, walked up to the door, and was greeted by this note:

Of course, they still had the ginormous banner stretched across the front of the building, to lure would-be world travelers.

I went to the UPS Store, because they had "Passport Photos" on their sign. I was instructed to sit in a chair, and the photo was quickly snapped with a digital camera. I saw what appeared to be a horrible photo of myself on the screen of the camera.

"Can you retake that please?" I asked.

He glanced down at the screen and said, "Nope! Your eyes were open!"

A minute later I was handed my photos and told to go to the main (read: through downtown traffic) post office to process my passport.

It was too late to go then, so the next day I fought downtown traffic, parked the swagger wagon in a skinny spot, squeezed through the narrow opening that was left, walked past the liquor store, and waited in line. Only two 'windows' were open, so it took over half an hour to get to "I can help who's next!". I stepped up to the counter and placed my forms in front of me.

"I'd like to get a passport!" I said in my chipper I-know-it's-not-your-fault voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry." nice postal lady said. "We don't do those after 1:30."

I looked at the giant clock on the wall above my head. It read 1:35pm.

"I was here. I was in line. I've been in line forever."

She smiled, and said, "You can come tomorrow, between 8:30am and 1:30pm. Or on Saturday between 9:00am and 10:30am."

She pushed my papers toward me and called out, "I can help who's next!"

Now I know why they opened a liquor store next door!

At the moment, a passport is the least of my concerns, as I am in bed with the plague. It begins with a rash, a headache, and a high fever. Then it becomes projectile vomiting and two days of sleeping sickness. Right before it turns the victim loose, they get one last round of diarrhea and vomiting.

Arden had this and has fully recovered, Paige got it over the weekend and returned to school today.

I've been in bed with fever and headache since 8pm yesterday, alternating between hypothermia and heat-stroke.

I begged for hours last night for someone to bring me a drink of water.

Harris finally arrived with a glass of lukewarm water that tasted strongly like cottage cheese.

I did not dare ask for a clean glass.

This morning, Arden brought me coffee and meds.

Paige came in this afternoon to check on me ask for a ride back to school to get her history book. To bribe me, she brought me a slice of sweet potato pie the size of my head.

I got out of bed, and drove her the mile to the school, the heel of my palm pressed firmly over my right eyebrow, to prevent the headache-induced double vision.

That which does not kill us makes us stronger (or sometimes cripples us for life).

Either way, you will see the pie again.

News from upstairs is that Harris just barfed all over the kitchen.

I hear the washer running, so I'm going to burrow back into my nest-pod of pillows and pray that they have it all under control, and that the washer holds up.