If Johnny Cash Wrote a Song About the Post Office

I was off yesterday. When I came back to work today, they had moved my case back so that everything I'd learned was on the left was back on the right, although this time they'd bolted it together four inches off from where it's been for the last 12 years (except for the last 5 days).
Last week's move was to accommodate someone's interpretation of the handbook -letter case on the left, flat case on the right-until someone reminded them they took away our letter cases about 10 years ago. It's all moot since I've ordered new labels and the end of the route will soon be the beginning.

"Well, the one on the right was on the left
And the one in the middle was on the right
And the one on the left was in the middle
And the guy in the rear was a Methodist"

Oh, do you remember I was hinting about a friend of ours who was trying to get a reentry permit? She had gone to Canada, thinking it would be easier to get it in Vancouver, BC than going to Vladivostock, a thousand miles from her home in Magadan, Russia. Today they gave her back her Russian passport, and told her they wouldn't be able to give her a reentry permit because they were revoking her HB-1 visa that allowed her to teach Salsa and choreography at the University of Alaska; she was being deported. So, okay, our southern border is awash in drugs and corruption, but at least up here on our northern border we're safe from the pernicious effects of modern dance. So very infuriating that what made America great, our willingness to take people in and encourage the best and brightest to come to stay has been completely turned on its head. Non-Yankee go home.