After a thoroughly trying afternoon of meetings, I came home to check the mail … but there was no mailbox.
There was a mailbox, but it wasn’t on the post. It was on the ground. That is most decidedly not where I left it earlier today.
Great, I thought, that’s something I get to figure out how to fix tomorrow.
Soon after that I got a text from my lovely bride asking about the mailbox. She was asking because someone called her, leaving a message saying he hit the thing, and he’d be by later this evening to explain what happened. That’s a decent thing to do. And, sure enough, a man showed up in the early evening, chagrin and regret on his face.
He said his son lives in our neighborhood and he’s through here all the time. Today he was dropping something off and, as he left, he said a hornet or a wasp got in his car. He looked down to try to swat it away, or some such, and his car drifted to the right, hitting the box, tearing it from the post, cracking his windshield and ripped out the wood work.
He said he was going to come by tomorrow to replace the box, which was a wonderful gesture.
And, most importantly, I don’t have to figure out how to install a mailbox tomorrow.
Guy felt so bad about it he wouldn’t even let us pay for the box or the lumber. And, presumably tomorrow, the bills can be dropped off once more.
I did get in a nice 21-mile ride today. It was good to be outside. There were no new roads, but I put a few of the familiars together in a new combination. It was warm and sunny, and my shadow enjoyed it.
And now it’s dinner time. We’re getting Indian food tonight; that’s something to celebrate.
