The Postmaster

. . .Class was strange. Apparently, since people caught a glimpse of my sketchbook yesterday, the class president wanted me to sign her uhh... 'memories book' or something. So I did... ... and then somehow, the topic of playing piano came up. "Can you play piano, Joseph?"
. . ."Err.. yah, I can play a bit..."
. . .After I ran away from the scary women, I decided to mail some letters on my way to my uncle-in-law's office, since there was a post office just outside the subway station. I walk around, reading the various counter names, got lost, asked information, "excuse me but ehh... do you sell Umm... *mimes envelope*"
. . .The woman looked at me strangely, and pointed to counter 7. "Any counter beyond 7 should be able to help you."
. . ."Thank you," said I as I made my merry way to counter 11. "I need to ehh... sent two letters to Canada. But ehh.. I don't have the umm... 'surrounding paper'." The man laughs. "You mean 'envelope'?"
. . ."Yah..."
. . ."Do you have postage?"
. . ."Nope."
. . ."That'll be $57NT in total."
. . .I take my sweet time writing down the addresses, then ask where the water sponges are for sealing the envelopes and attaching the stamps.
. . ."Just over there on the counter," he says. But I don't really see anything... So back to information I go. The lady was nice enough to walk with me right to the counter and pointed to this tin box with some sort of white paste inside with a brush handle protruding upwards.
. . ."Eww...." I think to myself, "a large brush for glue? How... barbaric..." But I finally get everything done, bring it back to the counter and ask if everything's fine.
. . ."Yup, that's all."
. . ."Err... how long will it take before it reaches there?"
. . ."About a week."
. . ."k, thanks!"
. . .But I have no idea if by a week they mean 7 days, or 5 business days, or 7 business days... @_@