Got a review copy from an editor today. Sometimes Harold tells me that Brooklyn isn’t all that far away, but seeing a book that took two weeks to come from New York, and somehow got smashed, creased, and water damaged on the way to Chapel Hill makes it seem really distant. And only one of the two books sent was still in the package when it arrived. The post office did put a stamp on the package saying it was damaged in transit, in case I thought my editor was sending me an unsubtle message by mailing me a crushed book. (This is actually something I would worry about, so thanks, USPS!)
When I lived in Yantai, my mail arrived battered after a trip to the other side of the planet, and it was usually opened, searched, and halfheartedly resealed at customs. Sometimes books and other printed matter just never turned up.
I wonder if I should go to the Chapel Hill post office with a red gift box of bai jiu for next time.
If it makes you feel any better, I live across the street from the Post Office and my mail sometimes does not make it across the street. (According to Mapquest, the Post Office is 0.06 miles away from my house. According to my ears at 3 am, it’s really darn close. According the mail carriers, I may as well live in Siberia.)