The post was being delivered as I walked in the door to work this morning, so I cheerfully grabbed both bags - one of which was heavier than Luciano Pavarotti on a neutron star - to take upstairs for one of the brethren to sort and place in pigeonholes.
As I was about to do this, Fr. Ben, my favourite mathematician, came up to me and put out both hands to receive them. I magnanimously offered to take 'Luciano' upstairs, at which point Ben noted the tag on the bag and gleefully said, "It's for the library anyway." Giving a silent "D'oh," I schlepped it up to the library, trying not to poke Ben in the eye with the point of my golf umbrella, as he was two stairs behind me.
I made it to the library, removed the velcro band from the post office bag, and opened the box (dodging styrofoam packing peanuts, which seem as attracted to one's person as long white cat hairs are to a black pair of trousers) to discover several volumes from William of Ockham's Opera Philosophica et Theologica.
Razor sharp? Without a doubt.
Razor thin? Satan will be hosting the Winter Olympics...
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