Today my wife busted the mailbox door when she got out of the car to check the mail. In closing the car door it hit the mailbox door and broke one of the plastic hinges. Clearly an accident. (Perhaps.) It could have been me. (But not likely).
I was the one who got to go out in the snow with the temp a balmy 19F. Back and forth I went. To the tool shed, to the mail box, to the tool shed, to the garage, to the house for gloves. Dropped a screw in the snow, which can only be retrieved barehanded. Dropped it again. Dropped a wingnut. Finally I reverted to my first thought, wire. Drilled a couple of holes and macgyvered a solution. Hopefully will last til spring. Gotta get back in the house.
With a big mug of hot chocolate I start working on this blog entry. My phone rings. My wife it is. "I'm at the mall. The dash says one of my tires only has 14 lbs". Gee, same as the air temp now. "Which mall?" "OK. I'm on my way"
Back to the title of this post. In the summer of 1979 had I known that this day was coming, especially the mailbox part, I might not have married her. It is well that I cannot see the future.
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