“Between Dave’s chemo brain and my menopause, we make about 3/4 of person.” – Me (Lori)
We live in one of those neighborhoods where they have a gang of mailboxes, with keys, so that the Mailmen don’t have to go house to house. Its different for us, but it makes total sense for the post office to be more efficient. Ours is right on the court so its fairly easy.
Having said that, I hate getting the mail. I have for years. I think it started when the junk mail became the prime delivered item and handwritten letters began to go by the wayside, that would be the 80’s. I remember as a kid, going to the mailbox and it was EMPTY! Imagine that! An EMPTY mailbox!
So needless to say, Dave can get quite irritated with me. I’m home and I can’t get my tuchus 50 feet to the mailbox and get the mail? (by the way, did you know that tuchus is a Yiddish word? Yiddish has the BEST words!)
The Glove
I’m out walking Kip one morning and as I walk past the mailbox stand, I see a nice leather glove on the ground at the boxes. Its damp, its been raining. I pick it up, smooth it out nicely and lay it gently on the top of the box hanging over so that perhaps its owner might find it the next time they go to the mailbox.
This morning I noticed “The Glove” in my kitchen windowsill, drying.
I used to say we made ONE PERSON, but I have decided that I was overestimating our abilities!
