Anyhoo... with no pressing deadline, I figured I could just mail them at the Dead-Mouse-Smelling Post Office. The drive-thru mailbox has its own little road by a tiny park with a fountain. But I got to thinking. It's the 4th of July weekend. What if some kid decided to toss a firecracker in the snout of that mailbox? Then my bills would be burnt! So just in case, I decided to carry my bills inside and use the flip-door thingy in the wall of the inner post office.
Then there was the dilemma on where to park. There are 3-4 spots along the sidewalk in front. I usually park there. I can hold onto the back of T-Hoe to step up and down on the curb. There's a handrail on the six steps. BUT that handrail is painted black! Whose bright idea was this? Do you know how HOT a black metal handrail gets in the summer sun? SHEESH! It's like my hand is a slice of bologna on a hot griddle!
So I parked in the side parking lot, where there's a gradual ramp. It's a longer walk. But no steps. Just a maze that keeps me mentally sharp, avoiding Old Timer's Disease, as the kids call it these days. Here's the ramp route:
Here's a bit of trivia for you! That red car out front? It belongs to the Man Owner of the Gas Station Chicken Store! Small world, huh? I saw him coming out as I was wending through the wrought-iron maze. He called out to me, and I said,
"I'll be down to your place in a minute!"
I was actually aiming my phone camera to get a picture of the steps. I waited until he was out of frame, in case he wanted to remain anonymous.
Sorry for the tilt. The Dead-Mouse-Smelling Post Office was not going down like the Titanic. I just didn't commit to a vertical photo or a horizontal. Anyhoo... that metal rail is flat, and really soaks up the sun's energy. Not at this time though, because the sun went behind the clouds.
Anyhoo... my bills went through the flip-door thingy in the wall inside. I even pulled it out again, to make sure they slid down. They did. One less thing to worry about.
I do the same thing with that flip down thingy for posting mail, just to be sure everything slides down properly. I like your artistic steps photo.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteYou can't be too careful with your mail! Ne'er-do-wells are itchin' to get your personal information out of it, like account numbers, and bank information. At least you do your bills online, so that's one less thing for YOU to worry about!
I'm glad that picture didn't give you vertigo! I have to tilt my head sideways when I look at it.
You do know that hooligans could have dropped a firecracker down the flip-down thingy inside the post office, don't you?
ReplyDeleteI'll keep my fingers crossed that your bills are on their way--safely and unburned--to their destinations.
(And I will NEVER be able to guess post titles that orignate from country songs, unless they're super well-known. Sorry. It's illegal for us city folk to listen to country music.)
Sioux,
ReplyDeleteNo way! They wouldn't dare! We have respectable hooligans, not anarchists!
I'm pretty sure Alan Jackson's Chattahoochee is a super well-known song...
No, that is not a song that's well-known to us urban thugs.
ReplyDeleteWell-known country songs to city folks are:
Coal-Miner's Daughter
Jolene
Kiss an Angel Good Morning
Ode to Billie Joe
Crazy
Fancy
Forever and Ever, Amen
The Gambler
Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys
Friends in Low Places
Before He Cheats
Don't try to push me out of my box. I WILL resist.
Sioux,
ReplyDeleteNext, you'll be trying to tell me that you're not allowed south of Lindbergh! That's what one of my unemployment office colleagues said. That when she was a teenager, her mother told her, "Don't ever go south of Lindbergh. They don't even have streetlights down there!"
Sioux, I live way down under the equator in Australia, in a city, okay a small city, and I've known all the words to Chattahoochee for years! I was introduced to Alan Jackson's songs by my younger daughter back in the 90s.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteThat is a fact I will store away for future Sioux-shaming!