The Misadventures of Cheri

Mortifying my kids one swimsuit at a time

Wait, Wait Mr. Postman . . . . .an open letter to my mail carrier

on September 25, 2008

Dear Mr. Postman,

There comes a time in every relationship where it must be evaluated. One must truthfully look at what’s right and what’s wrong. Then one must weigh those two together and see what outweighs what. I’m afraid the bad outweighs the good in this situation. I have been patient, I have been kind . . . . in fact, I’ve bent over backwards to make this relationship work. And I’m afraid I’m losing myself in the process. I need to be me and this relationship isn’t letting it happen.

Yesterday was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. But if I give that one event as the only proof that we need to go our separate ways, it will fall short. So let me give a brief overview of some of the events that have precipitated this decision.

About a year into this relationship, our neighbors went on a six week vacation. Upon their return, we got a key in our mailbox to the parcel locker. I opened up said locker and found all six weeks of my neighbor’s held mail. Are you kidding me?? I’m sure there were credit card bills, bank statements . . . . enough for me to do some serious damage. I shut the locker, took the key to them and heard, “Oh yeah, he’s awful.” I didn’t want to believe it. I optimistically thought I could change you.

Another time I got a large envelope that was almost an inch thick. It wasn’t for me . . . . of course it wasn’t. It was from the IRS. THE IRS!!! So I dutifully took it down to my neighbor’s house. He answered the door with no shirt on. That was not something I needed to see. And certainly not up close.

There were other mix ups along the way. We’ve had to call the actual post office because you don’t seem to understand that if you cram something in our box, we can’t necessarily get it out. We have a little lip all around the opening on our box that you seem to not know exists.

This summer we had to call and ask for ANOTHER jammed in item to be removed. That very week our church decided to do “Servant Festival.” One of the days was “Serve a Servant.” The entire middle school department wrote loving and glowing letters to their mail carriers, complete with a candy bar to show their appreciation. The hubs and I just looked at each other as our son happily left the letter for you to find. Then you somewhat redeemed yourself by bringing a thank you note by to my son complete with a Reese’s peanut butter cup.

But yesterday was the end all. I opened up the postal locker again to find a package that didn’t belong to me. As I was carting it down to yet another neighbor’s house, the return address caught my eye. It was “Sexy Secrets by Sarah.” I so didn’t need to see that. Of course when I rang the doorbell, the wife didn’t answer, her husband did. Did I mention this is the man who works with my husband? I can’t ignore this person for the rest of my life and secretly blush on the inside knowing what I hand delivered him. I have to wave. I have to make conversation. I freakin’ HAVE to give him a Christmas card.

Sadly, this relationship cannot end. It’s a type of indentured servitude I must bear with you. I’ll admit, over the years I’ve wanted you to cease to exist happily retire. So on I go, stuck in a relationship I can’t get out of. Just do me a favor, mmm ‘kay? DON’T deliver my “Sexy Secrets by Sarah” to one of my neighbors.


One response to “Wait, Wait Mr. Postman . . . . .an open letter to my mail carrier

  1. […] Cheri-Beri in Uncategorized I have a checkered relationship with our mail carrier.  Actually, I think I finally did get my wish and he went bye-bye.  Don’t know where he […]

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