The Whites Creek Post Office

There’s nothing that makes me feel more like I actually live some place than going to the post office. Anyone can be a regular at a bar, but being known at the post office? That says… well… in my case it says we don’t get the mail out of our box often enough. But it also says “Yep, you live here.”

The Whites Creek Post Office is darling. You’d think buildings from the 50s wouldn’t age well, but this one is small enough that its anonymous office building aura takes on a certain charm.

Anyway, so yesterday I was there mailing a book–which means I am down to one extra copy in the house! But I bet you can still get copies from Amazon in time for Christmas, if you’re looking for a last minute gift. But don’t even get me started on the reviews. They’re fictional ghost stories. They cannot be rehashes of things you’ve seen on PBS unless PBS is ripping me off because they are made up. I literally am going to have to get some kind of shock collar and every time I go to read reviews, someone just shock me senseless, until I am conditioned to ignore them. And maybe you should not get anyone this book for Christmas because, apparently, I cannot handle people reading it and forming opinions on it. Excuse me. I have to go quietly sob in the shower now.–and I was coming out and a woman was coming in with these enormous boxes. So, I held the outer door for her, as you do. And she was kind of floored.

But then, a soldier got out of her SUV and bound over to open the inner door.

And I got in my car and I was fidgeting with my music and the soldier came out and she smiled at me so big and I was like “Yeah, that did feel awesome.” So, I smiled back.

And then we got married!

No, and then I was four cars behind an accident at the corner of DB Todd and Jefferson and it looked pretty bad, head on, but two of the cars in front of me were filled with healthcare professionals. Because this is Nashville. And because we were right by Meharry.

2 thoughts on “The Whites Creek Post Office

  1. And maybe you should not get anyone this book for Christmas because, apparently, I cannot handle people reading it and forming opinions on it.

    oh ……. bullshit.

    Dear Tiny Cat Pants readers:

    I bought the book “A City of Ghosts” to give to my Mother for Christmas. You should buy your loved one this book as well.

    Beth

  2. Beth is right, ‘A City of Ghosts’ is a great Christmas gift.
    My mother is a retired librarian; books are always appropriate. (I once bought her a scholarly biography of Mother Jones. For Mother’s Day.) She is going to love ‘A City of Ghosts.’
    My baby brother fled the swamps of Southern Illinois years ago. He likes living in California, but he says there is occasionally a culture gap. I try to send him things that are especially Southern. He is going to love ‘A City of Ghosts.’

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