Postal Disturbances

Here's what I've learned. The postman never rings twice. The postwoman never rings twice. Sometimes the postal people ring once. But they never ring twice. Sometimes they knock once. But they never knock twice. Here's something else I've learned. Sometimes the mail people never arrive at all. I'm not talking Sundays or holidays. I'm talking Monday. I went to the mailbox. I opened it. Nothing. All day, I kept going back. I kept looking. It became a sick obsession. A cruel joke. It wasn't the mail that mattered anymore. It was the principle of the thing.

The best part: Ring captured my entire performance. It's all recorded for posterity. The mounting frustration. The profanity. The futility of it all. There I am, opening the mailbox again, closing the mailbox again, only to find nada. No junk mail. No bills. No real estate postcards. No tempting offers of any kind. I gave it till 9 p.m. and then I gave up. So the next day, I called the post office right when they opened. The phone rang at least twice. And then, "Hello? This is Rosa." "Rosa, hi, I never got my mail." "Oh, no." "Rosa?" "Yes?" "Why didn't I get my mail?" "Did you put it on hold?" "No." "Did you change your address?" "No, Rosa." "Okay, let me check." "Thank you." Rosa put me on hold. I waited awhile and then she came back with an update. "I don't know what happened." "Oh." "Tomorrow, you'll get the mail." "What if I don't?" "Have a little faith." "I'll try." "You'll get it." "I hope so, Rosa. " "Me, too." The next day, the mail arrived. Just like Rosa said.