God the Snowbird

     

     Back home, right after Thanksgiving, a crèche shows on the patch of privately owned land abutting the park in the center of my small town.

Neither snow nor sleet nor dark of night

     In December, we ate up what was in the fridge and freezer to the best of our ability and pulled all the furniture from the porch into the house. 

     We were Florida-bound.

          We also filled out the form at the Post Office to have the mail re-routed South and gave a key for the house to a neighbor. (Good thing, since once we got here, My Guy looked in his shaving kit and realized that he’d left all his medications in Massachusetts.)

          We also gave our friend a key to our mailbox – and it was a good thing we did that, too. After searching here for a particular piece of mail and haunting our Florida mailbox, we called our good and patient friend up north yet again.

          Could he just take a walk over and check our mailbox?

          Here’s what he found

          A call to our town’s Post Office produced the information that they’re having trouble getting a permanent person on our route. So temporary people don’t have to bother their heads with details like forwarding mail???

           

Food for Thought

Considering the way things are going here in the U.S., it’s probably a good thing that I’m learning how to manage one aspect of life in a bomb shelter.