Pony Express

It may not seem like such a big deal, and it really isn't, but one of the things we'll have to get used to is the mail. I don't know if other neighborhoods or other suburbs in the Denver Metro area have traditional mailboxes, but in our subdivision, mail doesn't come to a mailbox at the end of the drive. It comes to a bank of boxes down the street. We get to stroll down to it everyday and unlock our box to check the mail. And if you want to send something, anything larger than letter-sized has got to be taken to the post office.

I'm glad it was Mr. LH, and not me, who had to deal with the "which box is ours" and "why doesn't the key work" problem. He couldn't access his snail mail for at least a week after he moved into the house. The boxes are numbered, but not with the house numbers so figuring out which one was ours wasn't exactly easy. Then, the key we had opened the wrong box (and as we found out later, it opened ours too if you turned it just the right way...spooky). We only had the one key and were worried the previous tenants had kept a key and were picking up the mail everyday. Needless to say, he had the post office change the lock on our box, which took another week.

All is well now. The mail seems to be running fine and our delivery person seems so much more competent than our previous one in NC. Our magazines are now being delivered intact and the mail in our box is actually addressed to us and not someone several blocks down the street.