Now, I have a love-hate relationship with mail. On the one hand, I love getting letters. On the other hand, I really don’t love getting letters out of the box. I admit I’ve tried periodically over the years, always with the same success level: zero. I don’t know if it’s been the height of the mailbox (it’s one of those ones where they’re all stacked together in a little matrix of keyholed squares) or that incredibly stubborn lock, but on a day not so long ago, all of it changed…
After leaving the house, I checked the box on my characteristic dropping stuff routine. The keys were down on the sidewalk, my service dog Darcy was inside the house, and no helpful strangers were walking down our quiet street, which put me in an awkward position.
Oh wait, no it didn’t.
After I had the key ring back in hand (my hand) I took the mailbox key firmly in hand (JACO’s hand) raised it to the proper height, and then with extreme care maneuvered it into the keyhole. Now, this keyhole is old and sticky, so I had to let go and bang on it a bit to make it go in properly; a better keyhole would make this unnecessary. From there, it was a cinch to turn the key with JACO and open the box! Can you hear the hallelujahs in the background? They go well with the sunset.
Last of all, we had the triumphant return. My mother was so proud : )