Seems it suddenly was no longer being delivered the week before last. We, being the observant folks we are, didn't notice right away, not until Saturday, when we both were home and couldn't just figure the other person had brought it in, which was followed by Sunday (no post office is open) and by Monday, when we forgot to call.
But Tuesday! Yes! On Tuesday, Charles called.
The nice, helpful (because everyone at the small rural post office is nice and helpful, if not particularly competent) person said, "Oh! So you want your mail delivered, again?"
"Yes, please," said our Marvelous Charles.
Seems that someone had called and told them to stop delivery on our mail.
This is odd as neither Charles nor I did so. My mother-in-law denies it, as well.
I was a bit concerned, as on the official form that was included in the 27 lbs of mail that reached our mailbox on Tuesday afternoon, there was mention that the mail was only to be resumed with written instructions (not phoned in) if required before 10/4/06. Neither of us wanted to go down that road. Especially as we were now getting our post, again.
According to the nice, helpful post office employee, they'd gotten a call telling them to hold our mail for a couple of weeks.
I'm going to hope they just mistook something. I'm also hoping the person who wished their mail to be held has a large box or gets very little mail.
I'd hate to come home to that.
Now, the other option is that it had something to do with our sad sack of a mailbox:
You'll note that it is listing, both to the left and posteriorly. It also has a very large dent in the side.
In all fairness, it was mostly like this when we moved in a couple of years ago. And then it got creamed, once again, by the snow plow, that first winter, but Charles propped it up with lots of rocks (now covered with vines), and there it's stood, or leaned, for the duration. It does work just fine, well, except for the little red flag, that fell off a year ago, but as we never put mail out in it, preferring to use the post office or one of those big blue mail drop boxes, we figured it was fine. We grew quite fond of it, taking some inappropriate delight in its patheticness. I'd suggested replacing it when the flag fell off, last year, (Or was it the year before?) but Charles pointed out that, as it was autumn at the time, which would soon be followed by snow-plow season, what would be the point in putting up a fresh mailbox?
I agreed. Less energy expended in keeping the old one.
After the events of the past week, however, we secretly wondered if this was some sort of plot to get us to replace our poor maimed mailbox. Guilt finally kicked in, and we hauled out the green plastic monstrosity that Charles's mom had gotten us many, many moons ago in a fruitless attempt to get the box replaced. (Being the adept passive-aggressive couple we are, we just smiled wanly and put the unopened box in the garage, by the old, broken Nordic Trak and put a cat litter box on top of it. After dropping a few more hints, she gave up.
So. Sunday morning found us sprawled on the driveway, vaguely waving at neighbors driving by, trying to get the green plastic monstrosity put up. Having neglected to have a 4x4 piece of lumber on hand, we kicked around using the battered-and-bent metal post from the old box (as there were no holes drilled into it, we'd have needed to rig something to attach it to the plastic pole sheath, like duct tape), tried to rip up some wooden pallets for the boards, and finally settled on nailing two 2x2 rails together (making a 2x4) and screwing the whole mess through the slots in the plastic post.
We then piled lots of rocks all around the base and, voila!:
We have a new perky, chipper mailbox. Looks sort of like Beaker from the Muppets, doesn't it? Just needs some orange sticky-uppy hair on top.
It's sort of stable, in that it shouldn't blow over in a light breeze, but if plowed by a plow, should keel over nicely, rather than standing all proudly and getting smashed. We could only dig down about a foot before hitting bedrock. I do like that it does lean a bit, as well. We could do such things like pour concrete and level it, but, well, why?
So, there. Mail box: With flag, without dents, no orange hair.
Here's hoping it will make the mail happy and the post won't have to go to extreme measures such as canceling its own delivery in order to avoid any further embarrassment of being seen in such a clunker of a receptacle.
Sorta like trading in your old, rusty VW Beetle for a K-car.
(Personally, I loved my old VW Beetle.)
Labels: The Life Rural