We Have a Walk Around Mail Carrier

I kind of love it. It gives our neighborhood a real small town feel. 

And I gotta say, not having mailboxes clutter the roadway looks real nice. Doesn’t break up the lines of the houses, you know what I mean?

Even better than that, though, it gives me a chance to get to know our mail folks. 

I’ve learned we have a “regular” mail person and then a whole separate human that brings oversized packages. (we keep ordering furniture and yard equipment and stuff).

One day we had a fuck ton of lawn stuff delivered – a lawn mower, a leaf blower and a pressure washer. 

Some of that stuff was HEAVY.

And our ‘oversized package’ mail human is tiny.

Well, I would soon learn that they are a damn badass. 

I was on the stoop, so, of course I offered my assistance. They refused.

Spoiler alert: I still felt terrible watching them haul this stuff up the stairs of the Professor Haus, taking multiple trips when I could helped with AT LEAST one of them.

But then when I brought them into the house, I was kind of glad that she refused my help – these bitches were HEAVY and CUMBERSOME and I would have made a fool of myself. 

You know what? Getting deliveries at the Professor Haus is a whole thing on it’s own. 

We have three doors you see:

  1. The front door (AKA the Stoop)
  2. The side door (AKA halfway in between the kitchen and the basement)
  3. The back door (AKA the door we go in and out of most of the time)

All three doors have been delivered to at some point.

Hell, all three doors were delivered to yesterday!

The front door got the Amazon deliveries. The side door got my bisexual dream of an office chair for some reason (I put this thing together this afternoon and y’all, Y’ALL I can’t wait to get to businessin’! I can sit in any position I want and be comfortable and not have my limbs get all tingly!) And the back door got our groceries.

So there’s always the fun bonus of when Mickey texts me that ____ is delivered of trying to figure out which door it got delivered too. 

To be fair, I am mostly on the stoop or somewhere else on the grounds when things are delivered, so I watch it happening. 

Whoo, that is boring. 

Truth be told I am kind of distracted by the birbs today. On Monday when we were in the local Ace Hardware, we bought some orange-flavored bird cake and some hanging wire box to put it in and we put it in a tree in eye-range of the Stoop. 

Well, for a few days, nothing – a couple birbs here and there, nibbling at it. But we had a rain last night and I guess it woke up this orange cake, because the birbs be wildin’ on it today. There is almost always a birb eating at it with at least one in the wings. 

Every single time I try to take a pic they scatter away by the time I get my phone focused. 

But I just get shots like this:

 

OMG y’all, I shit you not, I typed out those words and thought to myself, I will try one more time to get a pic of a birb eating out of this birbbox and then I will tell the story I already planned to tell.

AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED:

 Whew, finally. Also, I think we are gonna have to refill it by the time Mickey gets home. 

Back to the story though. Earlier today, I had an interaction with my regular mail carrier that tickled me to no end. 

See, when we moved up here we lived in a hotel for a while and had to do this weird thing where we had our mail held and then later on forwarded to the Professor Haus. 

It was confusing and the mail has finally started trickling in. Now, most of it I do not care about, but I have been a Third Man Records Vault Subscriber for the past 5 years and one of my Vault subscriptions came in during that weird transitional time. I cared about that.

Let me set the scene:

Me, still in my pajamas, every single window in the house open as I listen to my Succession Party playlist at full volume, working on editing Mickey’s blog and having my no-longer-gross nutrition cube. 

Outside: kind of greyish honestly, but no threat of rain. The heavy front door is open, but the glass outer door is closed. 

My brain: not expecting to be disturbed for any reason today (and plus the deliveries normally happen in the afternoon). 

I hear a voice on the porch through the window, “It’s the mail carrier and I have a package!”

I worry thinking it is a large one, because I don’t want the regular mail carrier to have to deal with that (I recognized her voice since we have already had a couple conversations, what with me being a Stoop Kid and all). 

It is not a large package! It is my Vault! And (since I am trying not to mask anymore) my delight was pretty damn big. 

Then she gave me the bad news, “There is postage due. $12.”

My face got sad, because I didn’t think we had cash. But then I remembered we did! But it was only four dollars! Not enough to deliver my Vault. 

“Can I pay with a check?” 

No.

“Can I pay with a card?”

No.

Then she sheepishly told me that she said no, because she wasn’t 100% sure on either question. 

I mean, fair enough. This probably doesn’t happen so often. 

Then she gave me the slip and gave me very detailed instructions on what to do to secure it, including giving me a direct phone number to the post office so I didn’t make a trip up there before it had arrived. 

On her way back to her truck, she turned to me, “Let me know if you find the rest of the money, I end my route over there,” she gestured to the other side of the street, “You can flag me down and I’ll give it to you.”

What a sweetie, right?

Well, about 10 minutes later I hear a knock on the glass door again. It’s the mail carrier with my Vault package and $8 dollars. 

“I wasn’t sure if I had enough so I didn’t want to promise anything, but here you go! Just give me the $4 and the slip and we’re good to go!”

Y’all, I didn’t think shit like this happened anymore. 

How do I replay this favor? I mean, baked goods are iffy because no one knows dietary restrictions, same with anything scent based like candles or incense or similar. I could gift a piece of art, but I don’t know their taste. 

There’s always a gift card or a cold hard cash repayment, but that seems so cold. 

What would a non-neurodivergent-brained person do?

 

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