I (don’t) Have Mail

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My mailbox was broken

 

I am not sure what happened.  But, it looked like someone had to have parked and left their car in order to pull the entire top off of the mailbox, and throw it to the ground.

 

Kids being kids – right?  Driving on a rural road and smashing mailboxes.

 

Except, mine was the only mailbox destroyed on my street.

 

So, maybe a wacky neighbor or still some kids who were worried about getting caught, so they left before they could do any more damage.

 

Maybe

 

Or, maybe it’s a sign from Mr exH that he is getting bolder and preparing to come back and murder us, as he said he would.

 

Or, maybe, it’s my friend’s estranged and mentally unstable husband, who I saw yesterday evening in a parking lot and refused to respond to with conversation, because he too is scary as hell right now.

 

This is my life.

 

Where I want to brush off the mailbox as the windy storm last night, kids, or wacky neighbors with bad behavior etc.  I cannot afford the luxury of ending my conversation about the mailbox there.

 

I want to.  I really truly very much wish that I could.

 

But, for now, I will sit in my house, listening alertly to every creak, with my alarm system on, doors and windows locked, driveway alert on (I have a long driveway, and the alert gives me time to peek out the window and call 911 if needed), and talk myself through all of the triggers the sad broken mailbox has effortlessly resurfaced.

 

The patrol officer thinks it might have been the storm.  But, even he was unsure how a storm could lift just the top of only MY mailbox off.

 

This is my life.

 

I’d rather be in Italy eating watermelon and picking out potential originating countries of tourists as they pass by. You?

Score, again, for disassociation!

Love, Ms Herisme xo

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