The scythe arrived on Friday after a drawn out discussion with our rural letter carrier via notes in the mailbox. If we’d been in the city, I’d have had it on Monday evening. Tuesday morning at the latest. You see, when you live in the city and a package needs a signature, you merely leave work fifteen minutes early and swing by the post office. Out here, work and the post office are an hour apart, so we are at the mercy of the all-powerful rural letter carrier.

Shortly after we moved here, we received a pamphlet and a greeting from our rural letter carrier, Pat, and her backup, Debbie. Pat wanted to let us know that she was our post office on wheels. She shared this with us through the pamphlet that was, I’m fairly sure, a xerox copy of a mimeographed copy of a document pounded out on a typewriter sometime before I was born.

Some helpful hints from my post office on wheels:

— Rural customers need to affix postage onto their envelopes. (No longer can you put a chicken in the mailbox and expect your letters to get to their destination.)
— Do not alter your address as it was given to you by the post office. (Damn.)
— Rural carriers are not responsible for money left in unattended mailboxes. (Or chickens.)

Luckily for me, my mother was here and able to wait for Pat to appear with my scythe. According to my mom, Pat was a finely coifed little old lady. She sat in the passenger seat of her car. The steering wheel was in front of the driver’s seat. To steer the car, Pat reached over with her left hand and spun the wheel. My mom could only guess that there were pedals on Pat’s side of the car, but perhaps she has extremely long legs.

If all rural letter carriers drive like Pat, the helpful hint on the pamphlet to keep children far away during mail delivery time makes a lot more sense.