Armistice

The ole fat ranch hand fell out by the front gate early this morn to unplug the mail box and replant it "closer" to the road per the request of the U.S. government.

Yep, chunked that rock bar at the ground til the eyes got blurry and fainting didn't seem too dang remote an idea. Finally managed to peck out a shallow hole (again), mix some concrete (again), and plant that puppy (again).

Was the third time the charm?

Got a piece of junk mail in the box a couple hours later and the postal ninja had written on the envelope, "Thank you".

Not sure if that was "thank you" for providing endless entertainment like a trained monkey, or thank you for not hunting down that mail totin' cretin and puttin' some mail where the sun don't shine for causing me to jump thru so many hoops.

All ya'll pray the postal wars are over because your humble scribe ain't got many of them rock bar ground pound holes left in him.