When I moved here, the mailbox was too small. It also had a big dent in it, making it even smaller inside. I lived with that for several years until I had enough energy to fix it. I pounded out the huge dent and covered the rusting old thing with a pristine coat of white Rust-Oleum. It looked brand new. I admired it each time I came home. I took great satisfaction in a job well done. (Small minds...)
The address when I first moved here was literally RR# 2. Mail would be delivered even if there was no box number included. When the County finally assigned a real address for my house, I was supposed to put that address on the mailbox. Of course I did not get that done but it turned out to be a good thing. The company hired to assign addresses messed up all the numbering. Some folks not plagued with procrastination woes had their new addresses carved into limestone posts and set them permanently in their yards. No one was happy when the County assigned new, corrected addresses. No one. Even then I did not get the address on my box until long after the deadline had passed. I still received mail.
Eventually the pristine white paint flaked away and the bright red flag had faded to a rusty brown, both victims of the Kansas sunlight and the second law of thermodynamics. It was difficult to get to the post office in town whenever there was a package that could not be left in the mailbox. I at last decided to buy a new mailbox. I spent a lot of time trying to find a larger white mailbox. Everyone buys the large white mailboxes in the big box stores in Topeka. The size I wanted was only available in black and I did not want a black mailbox. Finally, I settled for a smaller white mailbox one day, the only white one available I had seen in almost a year of sporadic looking. (I could have ordered one but that would have required far too much effort!)
So, I was thinking my mailbox woes were settled - maybe forever - until this morning when the brace fell off into my hands! It needs to be fixed because I do not want to inconvenience the mail carrier, who may or may not still deliver mail to a box on the ground. I rarely get anything important in the mail anymore - no money and certainly no letters! No one writes letters but I still love checking the mail. I always hope someone sent a letter. I am not disappointed when there is no letter but I am so happy on those very rare occasions when I do get a card or a note from someone!
The temperature today has been about 100 degrees - far too hot to try to fix it. I do not want to take the post out of the ground so trying to repair it will require a inordinate amount of cussing. As far as repairs go, this is a professional level cussing job - an iron worker level cussing - a biker level. It needs two pairs of hands but since I only have one pair, it will require sooooo many twelve letter obscenities. I can do it. Jake will look at me from under his eyebrows and Mattie will tilt her head, one ear then the other, trying to understand what that mailbox is doing to the human.
2 comments:
..."No one writes letters but I still love checking the mail." While the use of electronic digital email replaced a lot of postage stamp envelopes, even that appears to be declining. Text messaging seems the "norm" if you've got a phone. I find it a sad commentary as I have several "hand-written" letters from the past that I saved all these years. One is dated September 24, 1962 from my former high school art teacher. At the time I was located in Metz, France on a U.S. Army military assignment. That art teacher was very instrumental in my formative years as a art major. Unbeknownst to me at that time was that she had studied two years in London before joining the staff at my high school. It later dawned on me why she as encouraging me to go to Paris and see the stained glass windows of several cathedrals. I never got there. She passed away in January 1990 somce 27 years after she wrote that letter that I still have to this day.
You need to go to France! It's never too late!! An elder friend of mine told me that we receive "medicine bundles" in our lives - people or wisdom or talents that illuminate and cultivate the rest of our lives. I think it is safe to say your art teacher was a "medicine bundle" for you!
I keep most of the letters I've ever received as well. (Unless they were from an ex significant other. Those went into the fire, most of them!) lol Another thing that grieves me is the 120 character reply or statement. Everyone communicates in 120 characters or less! Life doesn't necessarily fit in 120 characters!
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