Yesterday, someone must have slid off the road, and hit the first mailbox in the line of them at the end of our subdivision's road. And who has the first mailbox? Me. The plastic post on which the mailbox sits was shattered; the mailbox itself was hanging down, with its mouth open, looking for all the world like it had one too many drinks the night before. The mail that was perhaps inside? Could not find it last night.
This morning, after many hours of drenching rain, the snow has been turned into a very slippery slush. At least this morning the Jaguar was able to climb the driveway. But my wife and I are getting too old to use a snow thrower. It's time for a blade on the front of the TrailBlazer.
We went down to repair the mailbox, and at least the rain had melted enough of the snow to find our soaked mail. (Fortunately, no one mails water color portraits to us.) The top of the post was destroyed, but the mailbox itself was undamaged, so we built a replacement post from 2x4s and a 1/4" acetal spacer, and then screwed the replacement post into the base of the post (which is quite solidly sunk into the ground). This required two trips, when we discovered a measurement error had the mailbox 8" too high to line up with the other mailboxes.
This is a cold, windy, wet, miserable day. I'm taking the whole day off work; maybe it's time for a nap, too. It is amazing how exhausting being outside working in freezing weather can be.