After being away for ten day, we slowly turned into our driveway and noticed that something looked wrong. What was different? Our house was still standing.
Then we noticed it: our mailbox was gone. Not just hanging at an odd angle as if it had one of its periodic close encounters with a snowplow or a car driven by a teenager who is good at hitting the gas but bad at holding the steering wheel. Completely decimated. The mailbox itself was nowhere in site, and the post was lying on the ground, snapped into multiple pieces.
Readers who grew up like me in towns where the mailperson brought the mail to your door may have a mistaken image. Least you imagine a series of cars careening off of the walls of our house, let me clarify that all of the mailboxes on our "rural route" are on one side, which is, or I should say was located across the street from us.
As we walked up to our house, we saw that our mailbox had been placed on our stoop. About an hour later our neighbor came over and explained that our mailbox had been hit by a car. Fortunately her husband got the license plate number.
The Big Giraffe went over to the police station later to deliver his report to a very understanding police officer, who was already familiar with what had happened. Why? Because he was the same police officer who had responded to the accident. Um...accident? When did the police get involved?
It turns out a woman turned around in our driveway and pulled out, while another car was driving down our street. Whether she didn't look before pulling out or he was speeding, he had to swerve to avoid a collision with her car. He instead ran over our mailbox, thick wood post and all. Not surprisingly, his car was damaged in the process.
In the meantime we have no mailbox which means we have no mail. Well...almost no mail. Our mailwoman did the mail on Monday because she saw that it contained the Big Giraffe's passport. However, she has not parked her car in the middle of her route, crossed the street, and marched down the snowy driveway since then. We need to not only get a new mailbox and post, but we need a 5 gallon bucket and sand to hold the post until the ground thaws enough to truly secure it. Fortunately the guy's insurance is paying for the mailbox, post, bucket, sand, and handyman installation. Don't laugh! We're not too handy around here. We had to get the handyman to install our last mailbox this time last year. I have no interest in digging a giant hole in the ground, and I can almost guarantee that the Big Giraffe doesn't either.
It's funny how our boring old mailbox is such a landmark. Neighbors I haven't seen in ages have stopped me to ask what happened to it. Someone named Balex Melliot may have even driven by my house by mistake. I mean it's not like I she hasn't been driving to our house for the last 8.5 years or anything!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: When something happens to your property when you're away, the story will never make sense no matter how many times it's told to you.
Well, better that the other car hit the mailbox and not each other, right? That would be a pleasant surprise, to find out that there was a horrible crash in your driveway...
Professional Mom of two cats, a dog, an ant farm, and oh yeah...two boys: a 6 year old and a 3 year old. Also found in my house is my husband who is known on this blog as The Big Giraffe.
For those of us who didn't get an instruction manual with our babies and for whom parenting hasn't always gone as planned. On a more serious note this blog is about supporting a woman's ability to make her own choices about parenting including the choice, for whatever reason, to bottle feed her babies formula.
I saw something about this on BG's Facebook page and wondered what happened. Sounds annoying. Glad that no one was hurt, though.