I ordered a used book. It was only a few miles away, in San Francisco, so I figured it would get here soon.
But no: It took more than a week, because first, the USPS sent my book to Las Vegas.
Then to Reno.
Then back to San Francisco, where the journey began. Then to Oakland—where I live! (Getting close, right?)
But then the book went back to San Francisco once more. And then back to Oakland again.
And then, finally, today, the book arrived.
It must be exhausted.