Did I tell you the story about the cold, windy day and how I decided to send a team of delivery children to the mailbox with some Christmas cards that are still trickling out of my house, the telephone/internet/cable bill and the mortgage payment? Let me emphasize for you that the wind was WHIPPING! And then let me add the detail that our mailman had delivered the day's mail before the little do-gooders got to the box. They followed instructions: the mail came out, the delivery went in, the flag went up. They made the wintery journey home. Two hours later I retrieved the small stack from the mailbox on my way out to run some errands. I figured I might as well stop along the way and drop the envelopes off at the Post Office. At this point, I look at the stack and it feels smaller. Something doesn't feel quite right. But I go, and deliver, and there is a nagging thought in my head that I ought to look at the checkbook when I get home, and recall which bills I was sending out that day. And. Well, after determining the MIA status of the envelope containing payment; the sinking realization that the mortgage payment flew from its assigned route to a wintery fate... I gathered my children (and the friends they had over that day) and we made a lengthy trip to forage for the stray mail. Under every bush and around every corner. In every adjoining neighbors' yard. To no avail. Then it snowed. A lot. I have made a staunch resolution for the new year: never EVER put your mortgage payment into the hands of anyone who has never made a mortgage payment before. Especially on a blustery day when the walk to the mailbox feels extra long, and something like you're forging through a northerly blizzard.
When Spring rolls around, I'll be keeping my eye out for something other than daffodils and crocuses. And maybe one or two of those late Christmas cards.