Don’t Mess With The Mail

Our highly reliable postal carrier is a cheerful, middle-aged woman with blond hair and wire-rim glasses. Often, we get packages — usually from Amazon and delivered by the U.S. Postal Service — that won’t fit in the mailbox. When that occurs, she climbs out of her un-airconditioned cargo van, regardless of the weather, and brings not only the boxes but the regular mail and puts all of it on our front porch. My study is next to the front door and often I’m at the computer. Sometimes I’ll see her walking back down the driveway out the nearby picture window. I’ll open the door, holler...

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