We thought we had it figured out. We thought we could beat the system. 

But we were wrong. Very, very wrong.

In January, we spent $104 re-mailing the box of books that already been returned to my brother's house in Washington once before. We took this bold step because we thought that this time we would be able to get it. We thought that this time the box would come to our house in lovely Capriglia-by-the-Sea. We believed.

We were fools.

It showed up this morning in Washington again, having been returned from the Post Office in Pietrasanta again,  making -- for those of you who are keeping score -- THREE round trip voyages across the Atlantic Ocean for this particular set of books.

At this point, it's just straight-up sadism. Those fuckers in the Pietrasanta Post Office are vicious. They are sick.

This behavior is in very stark contrast to the happenings in the lovely pub here in Capriglia-by-the-Sea. This evening, Jonathan and I walked down -- taking the long way in the lilac light of evening because the sea was irresistibly sparkling and the air smelled of violets and mimosa. When we first arrived, there were only three of the old men in the pub and Renata and us and the light was dusky and the fire in the wood-burning stove was smoky and warm. Two giant wheels of cheese has arrived -- 37 kilos each, sitting on the table with the old men. We talked with Renata about Jonathan's upcoming birthday and when she brought out our prosciutto, etc., she had lit a birthday candle on the cheese for him and sang Happy Birthday to You in English.

Later, we walked home through the village holding hands, with a half kilo of the cheese that we took home with us. The sky had changed from violet to hyacinth blue and Jupiter  and Venus hung above the sea. It is not my birthday, but if I had a wish, it would be to have days like today last forever.