The new Counting Crows CD dropped into my mailbox on Thursday, and I still haven’t had a chance to listen to it, carefully, all the way through. For what is surely the first time ever, I’m looking longingly back to my days doing data entry for the U.S. Postal Service, when I had endless hours with nothing to do but listen to my Discman as I deciphered addresses the automated readers couldn’t and typed in the Postal Service shorthand that would send the wayward piece, most often, to its intended destination (unfortunately, mail marked “Australia” would sometimes be routed to Austria, or that meant for China would end up in Chile — the fingers are quicker than the brain, and we had no “undo” key).

When This Desert Life was released, I had it in my player for at least a solid week’s worth of shifts, rewinding again and again (strictly forbidden by the USPS — hands are to stay firmly attached to keyboards at all times) to repeat especially good turns of phrase. I remember, particularly, the first time I heard “I Wish I Was a Girl,” the only song ever to make me catch my breath and blink back tears on first listen. For the first and only time, the work-week flew by.

Oh, to have that kind of time to devote to this new album. I think perhaps a solitary mini-roadtrip is in order.