Bonne 2010, mes amis. Welcome to the new year. I have many things to say re: Christmas break and caramel squares and that one run I took which totally justified bringing my sports bra all the way to the mainland, because I felt fantastic afterwards (ok, I felt horrible, but that is because I ran with a belly full of eggs and sauce. Maybe two hours later I felt fantastic), but for now all you need to know is that I've found my mail.
I'VE FOUND MY MAIL!!!!
Because we stopped getting mail round about the time the construction on the moat started OVER A MONTH AGO. Apparently the mail carrier won't come to your door if your door is blocked by eight hulking neanderthals who (despite being construction-workers-for-hire) suck at tools, and even after those neaderthals have vacated the premises, the mail carrier won't come if your front walkway was removed and replaced with a sea of mud and gravel and mud and mud. Not even if you try to lure him with a make-shift plank path.
So before Christmas Joel and I trekked out to the Big Post Office Downtown to see if they had our mail, but all they had was a security guard who went to go talk to a guy who said there was a note in our file which meant either that our mail was either being held or re-routed, but if it was being held, they didn't have it, and if it was being re-routed, they didn't know where to.
We put it out of our minds for the next 12 days because Christmas is not a time for fretting, and we were on the mainland and couldn't do anything about anything. So. We got home on Saturday night, and as we're approaching the house Joel is all, I expect a huge mess, and I'm all, I EXPECT STEPS! They spent that whole WEEK before we left saying things like, Only a few more days until STEPS, so I expect STEPS to have been procured in our absence.
No steps.
It turns out that the construction crew quit the day after we left, for reasons I will not get into here. So it doesn't look like we'll be getting any steps in the near future, which means that all of my shoes are ruined every time I leave the house, and also my MAIL! My free books! My ebay purchases! And our heating bill still comes to us through the door and not through the intrawebs.
So. We headed back down to the Big Post Office this morning and talked to the security guard who talked to the guy who got us our mail (wheeeee! But also without asking for any ID which, yikes) and who told us to install a mailbox on the driveway. I'm wondering if we can't just put out a tupperware container and write 'Mailbox' on it? Maybe I will make for it one of those little red flags.
Aaaanyhoodle, that's about the only thing we can do re: Our Wacky House. For the rest, we can just go back to being inconvenienced while our landlords try to sort things out. This whole thing will be hilarious in retrospect, I'm sure.
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