The Post Office

I love the post office - so much to the point that I convinced myself that I needed to get my own P.O. Box (and yes, there's a purpose for it....work). Anyhow, I took a good amount of time picking out my 'local' Post Office based on hours, location, type of building and parking. I found one down on 1st St. in Mpls and with each visit fall a bit more in love with it. That is....until today.

I got cat-called. Twice.

Now I have been cat-called before, by construction workers, on the streets of SanFran and by GW undergrads but never would think that I would be cat-called while walking to Window 7 to send some 1st Class mail and buy some stamps and to top it off, I had just come from the gym. What is so sexy about a girl with sweaty hair, workout pants (loose) and scuffed sneakers and, AND no make-up? I'll tell you. Nothing! I know it's Monday and you're probably still asleep seeing it's 8 in the morning but good gracious, don't cat-call a girl at the Post Office.

I wonder what I would've gotten if I had actually looked nice?