Rainy days and broken mail boxes almost always get me down?

So I was not terribly concerned that our mail box was obviously hit by a car Saturday night. John called me in the morning to let me know it had happened and he moved the post out of the driveway. He just assumed that the box itself was in the woods next to the driveway. No. A good Samaritan from a few blocks away called to say it was in his back yard....and yes, the mail is all gone. Of course then we would need to make out a police report...cri-me.

As I waited for the town cop to show up, I put the dog on the chain out back and got the kids to cleaning up in the house...you know so the cop didn't assume it was a crime scene.

Fortunately, I met the cop in the driveway and didn't have to invite him in. I was old enough to be his mother. What a comfort? There is something awful about being old enough to be the mom of the officer sent to serve and protect and yet not old enough to pinch his cheeks. He handed back my mail box that he had hunted down through just plain~old~good~police work...or the neighbor handed it back to him.

He suggested that perhaps there was no mail to take and that we could call the post office. If there was mail it was probably all over the neighborhood. Thanks.... If they catch the guy, we can go against his insurance for the damages. Okay, thanks. And yes, the next mail box post will be rendered in steel and concrete. Given the number of times it as been hit, my hope is that the next car that hits it can't drive away....nothing vengeful, just well, okay, maybe a little.

The comfort of course is that if someone tried identity theft...they should go for it! We are up for a new id anyway. Perhaps our credit score will improve! Yay for new beginnings? Okay, I'll call the bank so they know to watch out for any nonsense...

Did I mention the transmission is slipping on my minivan? A-ha. In the cross-hairs I tell you! IN the blooming cross-hairs!

I need to go slip on my full armor and get the kids out the door. Be blessed.