Slaying dragons one quilt at a time

Sal worked yesterday at the Post Office.  She’s part-time, maybe once a month on average.  Usually, she is pretty laid-back about it.  She mosey’s up to the floating bare, unserviced postal shed in her little boat, chats with customers, sells some stamps, sorts the mail and then comes home.  Four hours.

But yesterday, she was tense.  She was anxious.  She had a straight-lipped-mouth look. THAT is serious stuff right there.  Yesterday was grim.

“Sweetie.  You look grim.  Y’alright?”

“Fine.  Just pressure.  I’ll be fine.”

“What pressure?  It’s mail, fer gawd’s sake.  You can do it in your sleep.”

“It’s not the mail, silly.  Tomorrow I have a quilting class and I have to get up at 6:00 am to make it to the class on time.  AND I am supposed to have done some cutting in advance but my pattern just came Wednesday and it is sooooooooo complicated.  I just don’t know how I am gonna get it all done.  Oh, Gawd!”

“There, there now, Sal, relax.  Reeeee……laaxxxx.  Breathe.  In.  Out.  Breathe.  You can get it handled!  I know you, Sal.  You can do this.  YOU CAN DO THIS THING!  You are good to go girl!  There ain’t nothing you can’t do and they have not invented a pattern you can’t lick or a stamp you can’t sew!”

“What?”

“Never mind.  I am jus’ bein’ supportive which ya’all.  I am on yo’ side.  Whachever you need to hear, girl, that’s what I am sayin’.”

“Why you talkin’ whicha black accent, dawg!?”

“You are right.  Let us stop it!  Stop it right now.  This could get weird fast.”

“You already weird….”

So, she is over at Quilting right now.  She’ll be OK.  Sal handles this kind of pressure well. She cheats.  Actually, it isn’t really cheating, it’s multi-tasking, she says.  “I took the pattern with me to work.  I spread the cloth all over the counter and the boxes.  Had some hanging on the rack.  Some on the stove.  I read the pattern when I had the chance. I really wish we had some light in there.  Thank God the plane was late and we had few customers.  Normally, I might listen to any gossip or even read some of our own mail but, this time, I just cranked it up a notch.  I was the postmistress supreme and the quilter-from-hell!”

“And they put Harriet Tubman on the US 20 dollar bill!  YOU should be on the next Canadian $20.00 bill!”

“Damn straight!”