Grumble

Last night after work Gina and I visited the local fire hall to complete our civic duty. After waiting in line to cast our vote we hopped in the car for the five minute drive to our house. We live in the country, so it's dark: there aren't any streetlights lining the road and our closest neighbor is about 1/4 mile away. If we forget to leave the porch light on -- especially when we revert to standard time in the fall -- you nearly have to feel your way to the front door at night.

So that's where we were last night as we came upon the house. I forgot to leave the porch light on and the moon was obscured by a thick blanket of clouds. It was dark. My headlights bounced off the mailbox as we approached and I noticed that it seemed to be slighly askew. I drove past the driveway to get a closer look. In fact, it was totally folded over on the post, with the remnants of a large pumpkin scattered across the road. Someone trashed our mailbox, and I'm totally pissed off.

What's amazing is that the mailbox is mere steps away from our front porch, and someone did this between 5 and 6 p.m. That's pretty bold. And I'm really afraid of getting into a vicious circle of replacing a mailbox only to have it smashed. All night I've been thinking of ways to bait the nefarious smashers. Fill a mailbox with concrete and paint a big bullseye on the side? Get a local welder to weld some 1/4 inch steel into a box? Wire up the videocamera to tape the little dirtballs in action? Dunno. But right now my weekend project will be installing a new mailbox and post. The smashed one is currently held together by a couple of bungie cords. We're all about class here.