U. S. Mail

Last Tuesday evening my neighbor knocked on my door about 9:30 and told me the postman would not deliver his mail because a car was parked in front of his mailbox. My neighbor, Bill, is a very jolly guy and not the least bit upset; he was simply letting me know. That car was a 1991 Acura Legend that belongs to my oldest son who had just returned from hiking the Appalachian Trail. While he was gone he loaned the car to my younger son. The younger boy, who is 16, had gone off to church camp the previous Sunday afternoon and, of course, he had taken the keys to the Acura with him. So, I sat on my back deck that night and started fuming about the fact that this postman refused to get out of his truck and the fact that Luke had gone off to camp with the keys. On Wednesday morning I stormed over to the Post Office prepared to let them have it about all this only to find that the guy who wouldn't get off his ass was a fill-in for our regular delivery man who had taken 2 days vacation. I told the woman in a very polite way that I was about to drive 60 miles each way to get a set of keys to move a car because some SOB would not walk 6 feet. She said, "That sucks." Yes, it does.