Neither Rain, Nor Sleet, Nor Hail...
You want your mailman to be like an expensive sports car; precise, agile, responsive and fast.
My mailman is a Porsche. He was bred for world reknown efficiency and precision. (I'm pretty sure he must have been engineered by the Germans.)
He wears a tight hat and wrap-around shades to reduce wind resistance. He strides up to each mailbox, butt-cheeks clenched (he wears spandex) with speed and determination. The mail passes from one hand to the other with agility of a stage magician. In a flash, the mailbox is closed, the free hand is back in the mailbag grasping the next delivery while he has turned on his heel headed in the direction of the next house.
If you happen to be in the front yard, he will smile and say good morning without breaking his stride. You must be careful to listen, because he passes by so quickly, only the "g" and "ing" are audible to the human ear. This speedy rolodex in spandex is a site to behold, but my mail is always there by 11:00am, SHARP! He is a mailman! A male man, mailman!
Yesterday, I noticed something missing from my mailbox. There was no mail. I waited.
11:01, 11:02, 11:03...no mail. What could have happened? By 11:30, I was worried. Maybe he was having a tune up? His shock and struts seem normal the day before, was he in an accident? He does take some of the corners around fences kind of fast. Maybe too fast?
A thought crossed my mind, perhaps I had no mail today. Maybe he bi-passed the mailbox, I distinctly remember blinking at 11:02am. Perhaps I had missed him. With a sigh of relief, I went on with my day....
At 3:30 pm I was putting in my front flowerbeds, when an unfamiliar man stumbled up to my mailbox. He fumbled through his mailbag and took out two pieces of mail which he placed (separately) in the box. He slowly turned around and looked at me with a stunned gaze. He manage to mumble something that sounded like "Hello", and I managed a polite "hello" and tried to smile. He set out again at a leisurely pace to the next mailbox where he stopped again.
What has happened? Where is my mailman? I'd gone from a sleek Porsche to a rusty Chevette with a bad muffler. Was the post office angry with me? I buy stamps! I pay taxes! I swear! I only made that "snail mail" comment two times! Three times tops! Why are they doing this to me??? WHY? WHY??
To stop my hysterics, I slapped myself in the face with the spade. I sat on the front step and imagined my future--- cashing cheques in lines at the bank with the 4:00pm rush with people who work outside the home! The horror! I wiped away a tear, and braced myself for a future of mailess mornings. I am a strong woman, I can deal with it. I blew my nose and went back to my begonias.
This morning, after breakfast I walked with sad steps to collect the paper and found today's mail in the box!!! Could it be so? I looked up and down the street and there he was!!! Like a vision in spandex, speed-walking up the street. I smiled at my speedy gonzalez, and I think I may have saluted. A little.
You want your mailman to be like an expensive sports car; precise, agile, responsive and fast.
My mailman is a Porsche. He was bred for world reknown efficiency and precision. (I'm pretty sure he must have been engineered by the Germans.)
He wears a tight hat and wrap-around shades to reduce wind resistance. He strides up to each mailbox, butt-cheeks clenched (he wears spandex) with speed and determination. The mail passes from one hand to the other with agility of a stage magician. In a flash, the mailbox is closed, the free hand is back in the mailbag grasping the next delivery while he has turned on his heel headed in the direction of the next house.
If you happen to be in the front yard, he will smile and say good morning without breaking his stride. You must be careful to listen, because he passes by so quickly, only the "g" and "ing" are audible to the human ear. This speedy rolodex in spandex is a site to behold, but my mail is always there by 11:00am, SHARP! He is a mailman! A male man, mailman!
Yesterday, I noticed something missing from my mailbox. There was no mail. I waited.
11:01, 11:02, 11:03...no mail. What could have happened? By 11:30, I was worried. Maybe he was having a tune up? His shock and struts seem normal the day before, was he in an accident? He does take some of the corners around fences kind of fast. Maybe too fast?
A thought crossed my mind, perhaps I had no mail today. Maybe he bi-passed the mailbox, I distinctly remember blinking at 11:02am. Perhaps I had missed him. With a sigh of relief, I went on with my day....
At 3:30 pm I was putting in my front flowerbeds, when an unfamiliar man stumbled up to my mailbox. He fumbled through his mailbag and took out two pieces of mail which he placed (separately) in the box. He slowly turned around and looked at me with a stunned gaze. He manage to mumble something that sounded like "Hello", and I managed a polite "hello" and tried to smile. He set out again at a leisurely pace to the next mailbox where he stopped again.
What has happened? Where is my mailman? I'd gone from a sleek Porsche to a rusty Chevette with a bad muffler. Was the post office angry with me? I buy stamps! I pay taxes! I swear! I only made that "snail mail" comment two times! Three times tops! Why are they doing this to me??? WHY? WHY??
To stop my hysterics, I slapped myself in the face with the spade. I sat on the front step and imagined my future--- cashing cheques in lines at the bank with the 4:00pm rush with people who work outside the home! The horror! I wiped away a tear, and braced myself for a future of mailess mornings. I am a strong woman, I can deal with it. I blew my nose and went back to my begonias.
This morning, after breakfast I walked with sad steps to collect the paper and found today's mail in the box!!! Could it be so? I looked up and down the street and there he was!!! Like a vision in spandex, speed-walking up the street. I smiled at my speedy gonzalez, and I think I may have saluted. A little.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home