Hating the UK

My annoyance with this country grows.

Every time I have just a truly splendid day, in which I think, “Wow, what a delightful day!”, I come home to find yet another crisis has occurred in my absence.

This time, it is a package crisis. I finally received Zack’s package with my knives, my panda slippers, and some more allergy/sinus/lung medication. Or at least, it has arrived in the country. I can’t actually retrieve it until I pay them about $60.

I am probably going to pay them the money, though. I sent an email to customs, asking if it was customary to charge customs on gifts, but I suspect I will have to cough up the money. Bloody fascists. However, it is a package full of medicine that I cannot get in the UK, and it would be cheaper to pay them the money than buy new knives.

On the other hand, it really doesn’t dampen my mood that badly, because I had a freezer full of fresh venison, some heather honey, a slice of carrot cake, and the delicious, delicious memory of a pork roll from lunch. Mmm. Details of my day will be forthcoming, with a bazillion pictures.

Hating the UK

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