Knock, Knock

When we moved into The Fixer Upper House a year and a half ago, I got a note that went something like this: "Until you get a proper mailbox, the United States Postal Service will no longer deliver mail to this address."

This unwelcome letter made me gloomy, because I had to pick up our mail at the post office until I replaced the 2-inch mail slot next to the front door with a mail box big enough to handle today's volume of junk mail. I knew it would take months...and months to find a mailbox that met my standards. 

I had a vague idea about those standards: circa 1920s, wall-mount, brass with a brownish patina to go with the front door's 100-year-old lock and handle. And I knew I

didn't want art deco or arts & craft. Foreshadowing the level of effort I would put into finding other house fixtures, I searched ebay and craigslist; googled "mailboxes circa 1920;" looked through dozens of catalogs and magazines; and shopped malls, home-design stores, antique stores and flea markets. But I couldn't find the mailbox of my dreams.

Fortunately, about a year ago I got on good terms with Glen, my mail carrier. I think he felt sorry for me because the

house had turned into a construction site. Either that, or he felt sorry that I had to live with a barking dog. Either way, Glen said he'd just put the mail on the front stoop unless it was raining or snowing, in which case he'd just hang onto it until it stopped raining or snowing. It rained and snowed a lot, but this arrangement was OK with me because we read only 5% of the mail that's addressed to us.

All along, Husband told me to just buy a plain mailbox for the time being. And all along, I held out for the perfect match. Until now. I'm tired of shopping and fussing over my house. I want to live like a normal person, and not like a buyer for the perfect life. I want to get a Visa bill that doesn't make me gasp and fall head first into the pile of papers on my soapstone desktop. I want to stop the madness!

And so. ... and so. Yesterday I ordered a plain mailbox from Restoration Hardware. It's a simple upright box, rather Amish-looking, brownish brass that I think is similar in color to the lock and handle on my front door.

It's on back-order, of course. I hope Glen will spot me for a few more weeks.

Comments

[sarah @ abeachcottage]

yeah it's good to let go and just get one that a normal person would get...i drive myself crazy not having something cos it's not right or not doing something rather than just doing it