So you've read (and more than likely JUDGED) my mailbox post. You know the one where I hit a mailbox at the beginning of my subdivision with my passenger mirror. For 3 days the guilt has eaten me alive. I have stalked the mailbox more times than I care to count. I reasoned back and forth whether there was even a dent there. Short of walking up to the box like a creep. Today I decided I couldn't handle the guilt. I had to face the music and own up to my mistake.
I bucked up and got in my car, after the daddy told me 100 times it wasn't that big of a deal, and drove to the house. Heart pounding, I was ready for whatever they wanted to throw at me. Did you know mailboxes and posts are anywhere from $100-$600? Truth. I wasn't happy about possibly having to pay that much, but I had to fess up and offer to replace the box.
I rang the doorbell. Nothing. I rang it again. Nothing. Are you fucking serious? I prepared myself for this for 30 minutes and they're not even HOME? The nerve. Kidding. I walk back to my car and take the opportunity to look at the mailbox again. No dent.
About 30 minutes later I went to the grocery store. On my way home I saw they were home. GULP. I had to do it. Deep breaths. I parked, got out and forced my legs to walk to the front door KNOWING there would be a face at the door this time.
Rang the doorbell. A short, buff little thing answered the door and was sort of on edge from the get go. Fab. I started my rehearsed speech, but what came out was "I hit your mailbox with my passenger window Thursday and I'd like to offer to replace it." She said something about how their mailbox gets knocked off all the time and it was seriously no big deal. HUGE breath of relief. I then went on to tell her that I got the worst of it anyway (breaking my mirror), but was she sure she didn't want me to replace it? She was sure and she thanked me for letting her know, but it was no big deal.
Conscience clear. Now lets go to the beach!
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