Mad Props To The U.S. Postal Service
But last night broke my personal socialization-opportunity record. I've been checking my mailbox scrupulously of late, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my U.S. passport (which I don't need to visit Quebec City this August, but do need if I want to return to my home in the freedom-loving United States).
I found three pieces of mail, not one of which was mine or my boyfriend's. For that matter, no two envelopes were addressed to the same apartment: I found a cable bill for the guy across the hall, a credit card statement for the guy right below him, and junk mail for his neighbor next door.