Two thick envelopes, complete with filled-out forms (printed clearly), original copies (yes! not my oxymoron, theirs!) of matriculation grade sheets, SAT score cards, blurry photocopies of my blurry ID card, and in one case, the pink postcard and the funky white labels, too. EVERYTHING. It's all there, just as they wanted it, including a heart-rending personal letter to HUJI pre-emptively appealing to their something-committee, to reverse their refusal to accept an SAT score instead of the Israeli equivalent.
The load is lifted, the papers are packed, and my heart is happy.
