I feel that I have been rather lazy during the last week when it comes to writing in this journal, so even though I have nothing important to report today, I will note something anyway. I can at least pretend that diligence is one of my stronger characteristics.

There was something of mild interest that happened while I was on my mailing route today, at least. There were only a few packages that had to be delivered, so I was able to make it back to the post office shortly after noon with the incoming packages that were to be processed. (This is still later than most of the letter carriers finish their own routes, but that may be the curse of being a land creature.) When I got back into the office, I heard the postmaster laying into someone with a raised voice; evidently upset over what the letter carrier had done today from what I could hear beyond his office door. Taking a peek inside, there was a grey pegasus with her head lowered, and I recognized the blonde hair to be that of the mare with the lazy eyes.

I must have felt very brave, because I pushed the door open, interrupting the postmaster's chewing her out, to inform him that the deliveries were finished ahead of schedule.

Whip Snap (I believe that is the postmaster's name, which would make sense due to the fact that he is a bit of a taskmaster and has a riding crop as his cutie mark) grunted at me and nodded, motioning for me to go ahead and step outside.

Seeing the grey mare continue to stare at the floor with her ears pinned back prompted me to ask, "Actually, sir, I have nowhere else to be yet, is there anything else that needs to be done?"

"No, you're done for the day. Get out of here and don't be late tomorrow. Few packages one day could mean twice as many the next."

It seemed that my subtle attempts to figure out what was going on were being brutally thwarted, so I figured that I might as well just be honest: Honesty seems to be something that most individuals around here respect, or at least tolerate. "Mr. Snap, I understand that there's a problem here and I really would like it if I could help."

I could see his lips curl in response to my inquiry, as he believed it to be best that I went about my own damn business, but the grey pony looked back at me (at least I think 'at me'; her face was turned towards me) with what I thought to be a grateful (if feeble) smile. "This letter carrier ended up dumping a whole bag of mail into the air while she was on her route: Trying to fly upside down or something stupid like that; now I've gotta figure out what letters she was carrying with her in order to send notices to the senders that their delivery wasn't made!"

Now I could see what was going on, and I can understand his aggravation. That is quite a lot of apologizing and bookkeeping work he was going to have to do to rectify this mistake; however, I could see that the poor girl had received enough rebuking for it (judging by the water droplets on the floor beneath her face). "Maybe you won't have to send as many, Mr. Snap. Does she remember when the bag got overturned? We can go collect the letters again and work a later shift to get them delivered before the day's out."

"How the hay are you going to be able find those letters? They could be anywhere by now! It's not like she was walking when it happened. The wind probably carried 'em off."

Aha! The ball was in Bejamen's court now! Finally I was able to be of some real use! I quickly retrieved my notebook, ripped out a page from the back, and set it on the table as I began scrawling with my pen. "Do you know how high you were flying when this happened," I asked the mare, but she could not give me an answer. Whip Snap was able to give me an estimate based on what he believed to be her mediocre flight capabilities.

Assuming that gravity has the same properties as it does on Terriel, and using the understanding that an object's acceleration downward is 9.8m/s^2, I factored in their weight against the resistance they would receive from fluttering downwards (my mathematical assistance tool was able to supply a vague estimate of the amount of this friction). After taking a glance at the Postmaster's weather calendar to get an idea of the direction and speed of the wind (light breeze of about 6km/hr heading west, if I remember correctly), I was able to draw up a semicircular area of where the letters could have possibly landed from where the bag was overturned (including an estimated measurement of the radius of the semicircle). He kept the paper that I was drawing on so I cannot write all of the specifics, but I think he was at least mildly impressed.

"Ah, a real smarty-pants, huh?"

"I've already been told that, sir."

"No way is she going to be able to understand a lick of this. Might as was well try to get a dog to do magic tricks."

"I could go with her. If she can just show me where the bag got overturned, then I'll be able to help her find at least most of the letters."

Whip Snap considered it for a few moments before giving me a glower and pressing the paper back on the desk. "You know I don't like to approve overtime, Baldy." (He has yet to remember my name, so he gives a new observation about me each time he needs to refer to me directly. I assume he was remarking on my lack of fur with that one.)

"I won't expect any payment, Mr. Snap. I just want to make sure everything gets resolved." I knew he could tell that was a load of bologna, and that the truth was just that I felt sorry for this horse that he was verbally beating over the head for making a mistake, but he gave me the okay.

"Derps, take Poindexter here with you to where the bag got overturned. You get me most of those letters back, and I'll consider letting you keep your job."

So that was how I ended up walking through the streets of Ponyville alongside a horse with crossed eyes. (I wish I knew the medical term for this condition, but as I do not have a medical dictionary on hand, I cannot search for one. If I could connect to the Stratus, I could find out in moments, but no chance of that happening.) I did get a chance to speak with her during our trip, but there was a problem: I could not figure out her name. I didn't want to call her "Derps" as well because that was likely an insult from the postmaster, and I did not want her to think I was making fun of her too. I asked her what she would like to be called, and she said "Sugarlump", but I think she misunderstood the question and thought I meant what pet name did she like best. Seeing as I didn't want her to feel stupid around me, I obliged and decided to call her that until later. (Though a bit uncomfortable at first, I figured it must be something her own mother called her at some point, so perhaps I am just thinking too much into it.)

Sugarlump is rather pleasant to speak to, even if quite simple. She seems to really like her job taking mail to ponies, saying that it makes her happy when ponies smile at her because she's bringing them good news, and enjoys muffins and birds. I hope by that she meant that she likes eating muffins and watching birds, but – you know, I'm sure she did. I am just being a grammatical hardass. I'll have to forgive her for being vague with her verb usage. She also likes my pink color, but asked if I ever got cold because I didn't have any fur.

She told me she would bring me a sweater tomorrow when I answered, "Sometimes".

Skipping through some of our simple chatter, we eventually made it to the field where Sugarlump believed she had overturned the mailbag. While flying over an open space, she had gotten the idea that it would be fun to try doing something called a barrel roll. The field was rather familiar to me: I recognized it as the same one the crusaders were in when I was helping them try and find their cutie marks only a week and a half ago. In fact, the crusaders were there again, and they rushed up to ask if I was going to help them today as well.

I told them no, but made a proposition that they should help us look for the letters and suggested that maybe it would get them a cutie mark. They told me that they doubted that it would, and though I agreed with them, they were kind enough to make me a counteroffer.

"Okay, Ben. We’ll help you find your letters, but if we do, you have to PROMISE us that you'll help us out again tomorrow on another crusade! You in or out?" Scootaloo asked me as she put out a hoof for me to shake. Reluctantly, I took their offer on behalf of Sugarlump.

Son of a bitch, now I've got to go help the crusaders again tomorrow.

Anyways, with the three fillies' assistance we were able to scour the field rather quickly, and as my estimates had predicted they were mostly within that vague semicircle I had shown to Whip Snap. A few lighter envelopes had gotten picked up by the wind a couple of more times, and a few of them were hidden in some shrubs, but overall we retrieved most, if not all, of the missing letters. I thanked the Crusaders for their help since it would have taken us much longer than an hour to track down all of the letters without their help. They returned my appreciation with a notice that I was supposed to meet them at Sugar Cube Corner tomorrow afternoon.

Sugarlump was excited to get back to the post office to show Whip Snap that she was going to be able to keep her job, and she wanted to see all of the ponies smile as she brought them their letters today. She was trying to get me to come with her by warmly taking my hand between her hooves to tug me with her, but I let her know that I would just slow her down since I can't fly, and she needed to get them delivered as soon as possible.

I was moderately surprised when she stood up on her hind legs to wrap her forelegs around my shoulders and rested some of her weight on me (which I almost couldn't hold up since I was not quite ready for it). She then brushed her muzzle across my cheek and licked me.

"A “thank you” would suffice," I mentioned, patting her on the side of the neck uncomfortably.

"Thank you, Human Ben," Sugarlump recited, still wrapping her front legs around me in an embrace. The moments kept passing, as I glanced around wondering if she was ever going to let me go, all the while I could hear the Crusaders giggling at me. "I like you, Human Ben, you're really nice."

"Okay, you can let go now Sugarlump. You've still got to take care of those letters."

That was when she finally released my shoulders and smiled at me (and probably the tree line behind me), then she turned around to get a running start to take off with a few powerful flaps of her spread wings.

That was my good deed for the day, and I hope she does get to keep her job. I suppose I will find out tomorrow when I see her there in the morning or not. I have spent the rest of my night here at Carousel Boutique. My first paycheck should come soon, and I've already promised to give it to Ms. Rarity as a token of my appreciation for her letting me take residence in her home, however, she told me that she would not just accept it: I would have to purchase more clothes from her. As generous as it sounds, I think it is because, once again, she is concerned about the social ramifications that will arise from me wearing the same exact outfit each day. I also think she enjoys the challenge of working on clothes for an exotic body structure like mine.

Or maybe she just really enjoys taking my measurements: I've asked her to please write them down this time because it's starting to make me feel insecure.

Now time for me to start writing my Will at the back of this journal because I agreed to help the crusaders again tomorrow. If I do not write an entry for tomorrow, it is because I perished at the bottom of a lake with my hands and feet bound while they were trying for an "Angling" cutie mark.