It's been months since it they announced the upcoming closing of the Postal facility where I work, and in the interim I've operated on the assumption that I would have two choices: to move or to quit. But oh no. Heh heh.

I have been offered a job at the Post Office in Duluth.

Do you realize what this means? I am nearly speechless. Instead of foaming at the mouth about it, I'll let a much more talented writer describe my feelings. Here's a little snippet from everyone's favorite classic, The Jungle by Upton Sinclair.

"Speak English?"

"No; Lit-uanian." (Jurgis had studied this word carefully.)

"Job?"

"Je." (A nod.)

"Worked here before?"

"No 'stand."

(Signals and gesticulations on the part of the boss. Vigorous shakes of the head by Jurgis.)

"Shovel guts?"

"No 'stand." (More shakes of the head.)

"Zarnos. Pagaiksztis. Szluofa!" (Imitative motions.)

"Je."

"See door. Durys?" (Pointing.)

"Je."

"To-morrow, seven o'clock. Understand? Rytoj! Prieszpietys! Septyni!"

"Dekui, tamistai!" (Thank you, sir.) And that was all. Jurgis turned away, and then in a sudden rush the full realization of his triumph swept over him, and he gave a yell and a jump, and started off on a run. He had a job! He had a job! And he went all the way home as if upon wings, and burst into the house like a cyclone, to the rage of the numerous lodgers who had just turned in for their daily sleep.

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