We've been driving past the house every now and then, as we wait impatiently to occupy it, and, a couple of weeks ago, we noticed there isn't a mailbox. In fact, the neighbors don't have boxes, either. We wondered if there was some rule about mail delivery to homes close to the post office (we're about 1/3 mile away).
Don stopped by the little brick building at the foot of our hill to investigate and learned that, indeed, there's no delivery to our home. The reason is a little vague. One of the employees thought it was because the hill can be slippery in winter. Really??? Whatever happened to "neither snow, nor rain, etc."? As a consolation prize, we get a free post office box. Oh, and mail sent to our street address will be returned as undeliverable. End of discussion.
I really don't mind going to the post office to pick up the mail. After all, it's a short walk (albeit a steep climb on the way back), and it's on the way to anywhere else we might go. Visiting the post office every day is a good way to get to know people. It's just that a p.o. box lacks character and, well, hominess. It makes me feel like I'm in college again.
On the bright side, it's one fewer thing to spell when giving our address. Having spent the last 10 years spelling my first name, last name, street name, and town name for anyone wanting to send me something, that doesn't sound too bad. I said I wanted to simplify, didn't I?
That doesn't mean we're done with the issue, though. Don drove our road again and noticed that the houses a bit uphill from us have mailboxes. Hmmm.... We'll let things slide (so to speak) for now, but once the holidays are over and the postal employees are less stressed, we plan to address the situation once more. (Ba-dum-pum.)







Yeah, McDonah and Trempealeau are a bit much at times.
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