Thursday, January 27, 2011

Trunk Murderess Lives!

Click here, then read.

If struggling with a locked car trunk was not enough this week, I went to put a get-well-soon card in my mailbox the other day and noticed that the box was a little rickety. It was not firmly attached to the post; instead, it perched hesitantly there, like a criminal about to flee. The box didn’t seem receptive to housing my card, so I took it out, but not before making the situation worse: I gripped both sides of the box and tipped it back and forth, lifted it up as far as it would go, making sure that it was broken. I peered underneath and could see that it was only partially attached to the post, that the metal had come apart. I rolled the box back and forth a few more times for good measure, hurrying along its demise; this felt good for some reason. It felt good to wreck the mailbox.

The next day I was out in the yard raking and the wind came up, toppling by mailbox to the ground where it lay like a severed horse’s head braying silently into the dirt. It’s what I deserved after manhandling it. I tried to set it back on top of the post but it wouldn’t stay. The wheels in my single-lady brain started turning: How do you fix a mailbox? Do I need brand-new everything? How much will it cost? How long will I go with a headless mailbox post? Will the mail lady still deliver my mail? I finished raking and set the mailbox on top of my rosemary bush, where it would have looked decorative and fancy if not for the beheaded post standing next to it. In a burst of energy I wrestled the skinny post to the ground and hauled it back to the dumpster, leaving a gaping hole in its place. That felt good too.

The next day was Monday and I waited to see if my mail would be delivered. No. Tuesday came and still no mail. I wondered what my delivery person was thinking; either she had an aversion to rosemary or she didn’t want blood on her hands. Maybe she was punishing me; to a recovering Catholic, that idea made sense and felt right. However, no matter how much I was enjoying the shame and guilt and mental lashings involved in not conforming to postal regulations, I did want my mail. I called Man-Friend and confessed the whole story; he promised to help me fix it.

On Wednesday morning I put the mailbox head on a lawn chair next to the post and attached a heartfelt plea (see Exhibit A). I did get my mail that day, along with PS Form 4056, dated 1991: “Your Mailbox Needs Attention!” There were two cartoon pictures of mailboxes: one falling apart, one standing tall and proud. The dilapidated one was circled, along with “Fault # 16: A new post for your box should be provided.” Good eye, mail lady.

I’m happy to report that later today, my severed mailbox head will be firmly attached to my new metal post, which is anchored in quick-dry cement just above Jimmy Hoffa’s final resting spot—now that I finally got him out of my trunk.

Exhibit A.

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  1. What great writing!!! Love your similes, especially the horse head, although it did get me thinking about The Godfather. Happily, that dovetailed nicely with the Jimmy Hoffa revelation.

    You should be hearing from "48 Hours: Mystery", shortly, in regard to the whole Jimmy issue. I tipped them off, so you can split the royalties with me, if you don't mind. Just forward my check to Susan, In The Boonies. The good old US postal service won't let me down, I feel sure, as your post so aptly demonstrated. :-D

  2. P.S. Too funny! I missed your opening link with the love song to the Godfather! Just now saw it, as I went back and glanced at the beginning of your post again.
    You know, you can embed those things!
    Come visit me on my blog, and I will tell you the secret!

  3. Why am I laughing so hard? Hilarious imagery.

  4. I've learned something here! Thanks, Kate.

  5. They have a FORM to tell you why they aren't leaving your mail? And they took the time to put THAT in your box? God bless the USPS.

  6. Kate, now you're not only having bad luck with the males, but also with the mails. At least your mail carrier is not a male carrier. I think I've wrung as many puns as I can out of that one. You can lock me back in the trunk now!

  7. Very funny post, about your post-box post, which I am glad you have replaced post-haste.

    I probably deserve a kick in the posterior for that. In my defence, Lazarus beat me to the good ones.

  8. A form to tell you your mailbox is I've seen everything! :D