The Captain found Il Postino and showed him where our mailbox is. He turned out to be a very sweet man who said, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know this zone, I didn’t know where your box was.” Sigh. The next day the missing mail appeared in our seemingly invisible mailbox, and all is well. For a time.
We’re getting a new mail man in two weeks.
An Ex-Expatriate 
All I can add to that is Hurrayyyyy!
Yeah, I really do like receiving the mail…
Ah Sherry – which would smell worse the inelegant “piss” or the skunk?
Problem seems to be solved however – Louis simply needs to lay in wait and again show the poor, new PDP where the post box is…
Depends how far away you are from the skunk, Pidge. At a distance they’re not too bad (in fact, I think skunk juice is used in perfume making, no?). Let’s face it, in close quarters neither is a treat!
I was going to respond to your “No Mail” post but am so pleased to learn the problem has been (temporarily) solved that I decided to simply send best wishes – not via the postal system – since I want you to receive them!
Some years ago, I lived in Southern Maryland at the end of a cul de sac, right next to a river. A new house was being built in the vicinity with all the attendant construction trucks, vehicles etc.
After a while, I received no mail. One week later, still with no mail, a notice appeared in my mailbox from the postal delivery person (PC wording for “mailman”) stating “Mailbox is blocked, unable to deliver your mail”.
Please note that the postal delivery person (PDP) was able to deliver the notice ………..
When questioned later, yes I admit I laid in wait, he responded that he is “not required to dismount, nor is he required to backup. If I can’t deliver in a single pass, I move on”. The PDP was not on horseback, but driving a car.
I found this behavior odd but in keeping with bureaucratic small-mindeness so prevelent among low-level government employees. So, for the next six months, I trudged to the post office to fetch our mail instead of what my elegant grandmother inelegantly called “getting into a pissing contest with a skunk”.
Good choice, Sherri – the skunk usually wins. When we lived in Conn. one of life’s great pleasures was the daily visit to our small post office where we could always be sure of finding a friend or acquaintance – in addition to our mail.