FUTILITY ON THE MOVE

As I sit here and ploddingly chip away at the leaning tower of items in my inbox waiting to be shipped all over the country, I ponder the stupidity of what I get paid for. Things arive, stay a while and then eventually go back to whence they came. I am just a layover in a vast pointless loop around the country. In New York someone signs a paper, sends it here to San Diego, someone looks at it and possibly stamps it PRIORITY, it ends up on my desk (in reality a dowdy folding picnic table with a computer on it) and I send it back. Many times I have wondered about typing a shipping slip, wrapping myself up and send myself along on a journey arriving at some dumfounded idiot's door punching them in the face affix a return slip to my forehead and arrive home the next day refreshed.