Mrs. Hillbilly Mom does not claim to be a rocket scientist. Though she DOES know someone who shook hands with Wernher von Braun.
I know why the federal budget always has its hands outstretched, gruel bowl proffered, begging, "Please, sir. I want some more." The federal budget is not nearly as cute as Mark Lester in his heyday, cavorting about 19th century London with Jack Wild, pickin' a pocket or two for Ron Moody. And the federal budget is not nearly so efficient in relieving citizens of their possessions.
Today, our green metal pipe mailbox, EmBee, disgorged a pile of catalogs, a DISH Network bill, a Victoria's Secret catalog for a woman at another address, and a large advertisement for children's toys for a man at a totally different address. One box. Three addresses. Signs point to an inefficient, incompetent, or disgruntled employee of Uncle Sam.
Because Mrs. Hillbilly Mom knows that it is a federal offense to tamper with the mail or mailbox of another, she does what any law-abiding citizen should do, and returns these items not meant for her to the dead-mouse-smelling post office. But because the M.O. P. O. (Mouse Odor Post Office) is not open during hours when Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is available, she drops the mail addressed to others back into the mailbox outside the M.O. P.O. So it can be rerouted to its proper intended destination. To be hauled back to the processing center for scanning. Back to the hub. Back to the M.O. P.O. to be driven on the route again, right back to the mailboxes in the same wooden enclosure as EmBee, perchance to be shoved into the correct slot this time.
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. Some calls her a passive-aggressive battleaxe. I calls her a law-abiding citizen. Mmm hmm.