I should be writing about ZooFari for Lost in DC right now (went last night, at The National Zoo), but instead I'm distracted by this little piece of sadness.
I believe a handwritten letter is a gift. So I was quite sad when this particular gift didn't make it to its intended recipient. USPS, why must you sadden our souls? People like us want you to exist. As much as we love your side-striped pants and can understand that occasionally a letter gets chewed up in a machine (adds character, right?) - not deliverable to an address that was clearly written, checked twice and is the same one I've already sent half a dozen letters to? Why oh why?
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