lost in the mail

"Neither rain nor snow, nor sleet nor dark of night shall stay these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."

Notice that creed doesn't mention anything about especially interesting reading material detouring into the mailman's (relax, he is a man) hip pocket before it makes it into my box. Yes, I do have my suspicions, especially during weeks like this one, when neither one of my Sportsman of the Year Sports Illustrateds--my mother's gift renewal to me has been screwed up, and I've been getting two--have shown up and, for the love of Brett, it's Saturday. Good grief.

Thanks to the magic of the Internets, I've already read the article and probably have seen most of the photos, but that is not the point. My mail is my mail! And where is it, Mr. Postman? These days, I'm probably more fond of the e- version of the mail, given the instant gratification and the notes from my friends, but I still look forward to checking the box or seeing what the girl brings back from her trip down the drive. Someday, my irrational hope persists, it'll be something better than catalogs and credit card solicitations. Something like my magazine! As soon as my must-be-a-Bears-fan, kidnapping mail carrier releases it, I guess.