I love getting mail. We make quite the game out of it. I say ‘The mail’s here!’ and my one year old and I walk hand in hand down the sixty metre driveway to check the mailbox every afternoon. I sit him on the box as we pull out the contents. He loves it, and so do I. In this digital age, there’s something really fun about mail. Whether it is a letter from my missionary sister or a bill I have to pay, I just love to see the little envelope with my name on it smiling up at me.
I don’t really like sending mail. Who wants to handwrite a letter when typing is about fifty times faster? It’s just so… much… effort. And no one likes a typed letter. So the lazy person in me has trouble sending letters. The trouble with not sending letters is, of course, that you don’t end up with many letters. On days when there is no mail, a little part of me dies inside.
I still have to take that trip to the mailbox though. And sometimes, if we’re especially lucky (read unlucky) the neighbours’ dog has visited. Yes, the Border collie across the road has developed some deep seeded love of our mailbox also. He seems to have claimed it as his toilet. We live in an acreage community… it’s not like he doesn’t have yard of his own to use. So, I think he does it on purpose. His little doggy brain thinks ‘Hey, they didn’t get any mail today. I’ll leave them a special present... Right next to their mailbox where it's sure to be found.'
I’m not sure whether to be grateful… or kick him.
On some extra wonderful days, I get mail AND a special present from the neighbours' dog. Life really is one treat after another, don't you think? :)