Sunday, August 14, 2022

Nor Gloom of Night

Okay.  I live at the end of this street.  (Whether it's the beginning end or ending end, of course, depends on which way you're going.)  This driveway is the one that mail carriers use to turn their vehicles around and start delivering on the street's other side.  This led years ago, to the Post Office suggesting that we move our mailbox away from the street and closer to the house.

Cool.

Over the years, there have been a few hiccups without the house number being on the curb: delivery drivers have missed on their first pass, that sort of thing.

Fine.

Now, the house next door has a fully finished, inhabitable basement, so there are two mailboxes at the end of their driveway.  (You already see where this is going, huh?)  I remember one single time that our mail was put into that extra mailbox because I assume, the mail carrier didn't see a mailbox at "the next house."

So.

For several weekends, I got no mail.  None.  And none of my waiting mail was picked up to go out.  Friday, the man who lives next door brought me two plastic grocery bags FULL of mail that had been put in that mailbox instead of mine.  Did I mention the bags were FULL?  So, since then, I've been working on going through them, finding things I had ordered that were "time sensitive," as in they were ordered to arrive for a certain purpose at a certain time.

Graphic representation of what my neighbor said that mailbox looked like.

Both maddening and kinda fun.




2 comments:

Kim in Oregon said...

Trying to figure out why neighbor wouldn't just put the mail in your box as opposed to putting it in a bag but maybe it's a southern thing.

Bridget said...

I blame all of this on Louis DeJoy. All of it.

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