I cried.

I was sure I was made of tougher stuff. But apparently I'm not.  I like to think there are extenuating circumstances to my outburst.  Here's what happened.

My carrier (the one I sub for) had a family crisis and had to leave in the middle of her route yesterday.  I took over where she left off and with the help of two others we managed to get it done.  I was "on-call" for today as we just weren't sure the outcome of her crisis.

I didn't sleep well - expecting to be called and I woke early with the beginnings of a migraine.  Despite excedrine, my head pounded and quality sleep eluded me from 3:00 to 6:00 and completely eluded me after that. When 7:00 a.m. rolled around without a phone call I figured all was well and I could relax and perhaps tend to my aching head.  At 7:10 my new boss phoned and put me to work.  I took enough time to dress, shove two more excedrine in my pocket and grab a cup of coffee.  I was there by 7:30.  Terri (another carrier) was already sorting my mail.  Together we got all my mail done and packages sorted and I was out on the route by 1:00.  Terri had sorted my packages into "the beginning," "the middle," and "the end" of the route for me.

My head continued to throb so I reached into my pocket for my spare excedrine.  Yikes!  They were gone!  Apparent casualties of the chaos.  I would have to continue with a knife stabbing me in my skull.

Then the rain started.  It poured buckets.  My rain coat, admittedly more of a fashion statement than a utilitarian one, quickly became useless.

Quick recap.  My head was pounding and I was soaked to the bone.  My reading glasses were speckled with rain and I had to strain to see through them - which did not help the headache.  The windshield wipers were doing this horrible SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK that was almost more than I could take.

I was making the rounds in a mostly timely manner by the time I got to the middle of the route.  What should I find but a bunch of parcels from the beginning of the route.  Apparently Terri's idea of beginning/middle/end didn't match mine.  My fault.  I really should have clarified her interpretation of those terms.  So I had to go back and deliver missed parcels.

By the time I got back to the middle of the route the darkness was beginning to creep in and reinforcements were sent my way.  Frank showed up and took part of the end of the route.  I plodded on.  I missed some mailboxes (because they were on the opposite side of the road - a rare, but real event) I was circling back when Terri found me.  She took another portion of the end of the route.  I did a few more deliveries when Tim showed up.  We divvied up what was left, he gave me clear directions on where to go next and off he went.

I missed the turn, had to go round again.  Found where I was going, back tracked to deliver two packages on Elm street.  People should have their house number CLEARLY placed. I walked/trotted/ran up and down Elm with my packages trying to find the houses.  I found one and finally found the other.  It's numbers were facing in. . .  like toward their living room window.  I suppose it helps them to know where they live but it would be totally useless to ambulances, firefighters and mail carriers.  By now darkness had completely overtaken and I went to the last set of mailboxes on Elm.  Fortunately there was a street light overhead.  Unfortunately, the mail I had in my hand did not match the addresses in the box.  I did not know what to do.  I just sat there in my mail truck staring at my mail.  Staring back at the mailbox. Then back at the mail again.

By this point I had been on the move for 10 hours.  No breaks.  No lunch.  No food.  I had managed one bathroom break.  My head pounded.  I was soaked.  I was cold.  I was hungry and I had to pee.  Tears threatened but I held them at bay.

I finally decided I would just skip that box and have one of my helpers help me sort it out.  I went on to the next set of mailboxes.  This time there was no street light.  I stood there looking at the contents of the mailbox.  It looked something like this:

The mail I had in my hand looked similar.

I just stood there and the tears began to trickle for real.  I couldn't stop them. Fortunately they blended  with the rain dripping down my face so it was hard to tell.  About that time Tim showed up, like the Cavalry ready to save the day. Which he did.  He took pity on me.  Assured me that it was all okay, no one expected miracles from me and what I managed to contribute was a big help and then he took everything I had left and sent me back to the barn.  He promised he wouldn't tell anyone I cried.  I hope not.  It's a secret.