You Don't Have Mail

The second time I came to see the house was with my parents so they could look at a place I was interested in. While we were there we wandered along the road and when my mom looked in the mailbox she discovered there was mail in it. I thought it a little strange that this place was still getting mail but you know those junk senders, they'll keep sending stuff long after you've moved or died.

When I moved in I knew I'd be replacing the mailbox, it's hideous. It's one of those home-made jobs that was probably (not) very nice 20 years ago but hasn't been painted or maintained since and certainly needs replacing. It's in pretty rough shape, has no name or number on either side and is just a brown box that the post office delivery people know from decades of delivering mail. It was a bit of a beast to remove, it had three bolts holding it on but after some elbow grease and a little convincing I was able to take it off its very sturdy and useful post and set it by the garbage bins. I mean really, would  you keep this thing?

The next day I had an unexpected knock at the door. It was the girl who lives across the road with her parents - I'd put her age at about mid-twenties - and she was there to ask me if I removed her parent's mailbox. I'm quite sure I looked incredibly surprised - so much so that two of the dogs made it past me out the door before I could stop them (bad Cora and Leeloo!).

After many apologies and "I thought it was my mailbox!" she explained that this house has never had a mailbox, the person living here has always picked up in town. Why anyone would go through the trouble of driving all the way into town, especially when you're handicapped, is beyond me. In my defense the mailbox is right at the end of my driveway, as you will see. The brown mailbox should not get mail to it - I know this because once I realized I had to install my own post and box, I looked up the regulations. What that mailbox is missing is either a name or a number and according to Canada Post, they should not be getting mail. Now why, you might ask yourself, is my neighbour's box at the end of my driveway? Well, because their house is right across from mine and all the mailboxes are on the right hand side of the road to accommodate the delivery drivers heading in only one direction and not having to double back. Makes sense but still, that mailbox should have a name, dammit.

So I had to find a post (fortunately there was one in the shed), dig a hole into gravel (super fun), realize that I could not get the hole deep enough to make the post the right height, buy a support bracket, cut a piece of wood to set the box on, find screws that were long enough to hold the box to the post but not too long to drill right through into the box, secure it all in place, paint the post white, find a lighted post cap to put on top of the post (so it's pretty), cut the post down because it's a true 4x4 and about 1/4 inch on each side too large for the post cap, slice my finger on the bow saw, jam the post cap on, and here we have it. My mail box. I feel it puts the crappy brown one to shame. When I removed it I had rather hoped they'd just replace it but no, they just screwed it back on (even though I offered to replace it and/or re-attach it).

Here's mine from the other side. Ain't she a beauty? Now, mail me something.