Photo courtesy Flickr
There’s a new manager at my friendly local shipper’s concierge, the one that spares me from worrying about parcels left on the doorstep. We were swapping comments the other day, and I mentioned that his outfit is part of the shape my life took after I threw my car away in disgust with local traffic.
His face lit up, and he started talking about the car he doesn’t own and how much more fun it is to drink and walk than drink and flip to see who has to be designated driver.
Lately I’ve been out of patience with the time it takes to shop, and I’ve been using the concierge quite often. The internet is the mail order catalogue to end all mail order catalogues and one of the interesting revivals of nineteenth century rural life that lurks under the surface of 2011. Mail order began to take off in the mid-Seventies, when rigorous federal regulations went into effect. Previously, it was too risky to order from any but a few long-established companies.
It’s relaxing to let real teamsters wrangle gasoline-fed horses, and a double-length German bus outranks even the most aggressive SUV. Time on the bus produces menu plans and enforced leisure that sets me up to wail on the laptop or in my notebook when I disembark.
-30- More after the jump.