The Post

In the United States, for the majority of home dwellers, the delivery of mail happens far from their actual dwelling. How many times have you experienced the fruitless effort of walking to the mailbox only to find that the mail had not yet arrived? Well here, we have a mail slot in the front door, so on Saturday mornings, when I am quietly enjoying my first cup of coffee of the day, mail comes flying in as the slot snaps shut. It is very jarring and I jump unexpectedly every time. I was telling my co-workers this and they had a good laugh. The other really weird thing that I learned this week is the mail only gets delivered to one’s home here. There is no pick up service. You have to go to a community mailbox to send your mail. So the Royal Mail delivers it, but to send it you have to go to a place called the Post Office if it can’t fit in the community mailbox for pickup. We have been receiving mail for the owner of the house that we are renting and have been given a forwarding address. I put a stack of it on the porch thinking the mailman would take it with him and it was still sitting there the next day. Again, my co-workers thought this was funny. I told them that the postman must think the folks at number 63 are nuts, since there is mail sitting on porch. One of them added, “Especially since they hear screams on Saturday morning when they stick the mail through the slot”. Oh, the silly American amuses them once again.