Ok, I admit it. I am Postally Impaired. I promised to send out a prize. Well, my box was small and it broke rather locally and I got it back.
So I decided to send a different prize. And the kids and I made some lovely blown Easter eggs. And then I turned my back and little Spud - who adores eggs and finds them oh-so-satisfying to hold in his little hands - got a hold of them. With predictable results.
So I decided to buy LOTS of bubble wrap and go back to plan A and just package really well. And that's as far as I got. I have the address label written out, bubble wrap wrapped up tight in bigger boxes from the PO - and there is all sat, ready to go, in the back seat of the car. Which my sweet husband takes to work with him from before the PO opens and gets home right after it closes.
And everytime I look in the back seat I kick myself because I STILL haven't gotten it into the actual postal system and someone is waiting for it and I am scum.
Do you know what makes it worse? I still have my mother's last birthday card, and I don't even want to know how many letters, many of which made it into stamped envelopes, dating all the way back to '95. And the package in question is snuggled up next to a package buddy who also needs mailed and is in the package limbo that is my car.
This must be an actual mental disability and there should be a support group or a medication or something. But TODAY I have DEFEATED my disability and finally got it in the mail.
I bet you want to know what I sent.
I will only say it is yummy and beautiful and I will post the recipe next week.