Going Postal?

The air was cold and there was a thin fresh layer of snow on the ground on a cloudy afternoon in late January. My neighbor who looks after a few children, as well as her own, during the day had just put all of the little people down for their naps when someone started pounding on her door and ringing her doorbell over and over.

My home in Sioux Falls sets above street level by approximately three to three and a half feet. This means that the portion of the driveway from the sidewalk (at street level) to the main driveway (by the house) is about a 20º to 25º incline. It’s not so steep that I cannot drive up and down it in the winter, but it’s steep enough to warrant extra care when walking on it.

When my good-hearted neighbor reached her door she found a rabid female mail carrier. The mail carrier demanded to know who lived next door because she had just fallen on the driveway and she was going to file an offical complaint/grievance/make somebody’s life hell report over the whole matter.

I shovel my walks and driveway as soon as the snow stops falling and they’re always quite dry and safe. The only exception is where the melted snow that drains off of the roof runs down the driveway and freezes up as glare ice. It’s brutal, and it hurts when you fall down on it. I know. I have. Coincidentally, this is right in front of the mailbox.

Yes, yes, I know, what a horrible and mean trick to play on the mail carrier, but hold on a second. I do not receive ANY mail at that address. Neither does my grandma. With the exception of two pieces of mail in the past 8 months, there is never any mail delivered to that house. What, then, was this maniacal mail-woman doing on my driveway? Oh, that’s right, she doesn’t even cover that route – she was filling in. Yes, I have met and spoken to our regular mailman and he’s friendly and nice. I wrote about that sort of thing on Monday, remember?

Well, my neighbor had to do her best to keep from laughing at this poor substitute mail carrier and even invited her in to warm up, check for serious injury, or have some coffee or tea. I’d be willing to bet that there were no serious injuries to anything other than her pride. The mail-woman was too angry to accept any of the rational help my neighbor had offered. I suspect she was too busy working out that complaint in her head as well as plotting a most vile revenge.

Well, I never heard anything about a complaint or worse, but she may have succeeded in revenge. Vicki was kind enough to mail me some oatmeal cookies for helping her out with a little glitch in the code of her blog a while back. She mailed them 3 weeks ago today, as I recall. They still haven’t arrived. I hope that the angst filled mail-woman is enjoying my cookies. That would mean she figured out who I was, what PO Box is mine and intercepted the cookies, but that doesn’t seem far-fetched at all.

I only found out about this incident last weekend when I went over to ask my neighbors a question. That question was if they would mind if I take pictures of their dog, and if that’s alright if I may put them on the internet for the entire world to enjoy.