Sunday, March 13, 2011, about noon:
Our chicks have arrived. That's right. They're here. But not here here. They're at the post office, and they have been since yesterday evening. They weren't supposed to ship until tomorrow, but apparently the hatchery shipped them out on Friday instead... and despite the chicks being shipped two days ago, we only just received the email notification from the post office now! Yesterday was Saturday. It's Sunday now, and the post office is closed. We won't be able to pick the chicks up until tomorrow morning at the earliest, which means those poor little chicks will have been sitting there, stuffed in their shipping carton, for almost two days. I'm dashing to the post office now with the hope that some postal workers might be there, sorting mail for tomorrow's delivery, and can get the chicks for me. At least this way, more of the poor little things have a chance of surviving.
Sunday, March 13, 2011, about 12:30 PM:
No luck. I got to the post office and it was completely dark and locked down except for the self-service lobby. I drove around the loading docks. Deserted. I parked in the employee lot and rang the service bell, still hoping a postal worker would be there. No response. I walked around to the front, entered the main lobby, and rang the service bell located there. Nothing. Dejected, I went back to my car and was starting to get in when a red SUV pulled up into the postal manager's spot. As I watched, a woman got out, ran to the service door, punched in a code, and dashed in. There was hope yet! I hurried over and waited for her to come back out, thinking I'd have to back my minivan up to the door so that I wouldn't have to carry the chicks outside in the frigid cold. I rubbed my hands together and paced back and forth, trying to stay warm and trying to think positive thoughts.
Sunday, March 13, 2011, about 12:45 PM:
The woman finally came out... and turned out to be not the postal manager but a very young postal worker who was very startled to find me waiting outside. When I explained why I was there, she told me she had nothing to do with any of "that" and that she hadn't heard any peeping nor seen anything in the spot they're usually kept. She nervously explained she hadn't even been in the post office for more than 2 months. Had I not been sick with worry about the chicks, I would have more than likely followed up on her admission.
I'm afraid tomorrow's mail is going to bring a box full of dead chicks.