Get out of my Mailbox

I found this piece in Salon.com amusing and relevant.

A barrage of mail comes into my mailbox, and here in rural America, it is fortunate that my alternating mail carriers are driving or else they would be cussing under their breathe at all the junque that pretends to be "urgent, open immediately;" "your last chance to buy;" and "confidential."

When I lived in Ranchos de Taos, there was no mail carrier, and I acted as my own by driving over to the local post office to fetch, sort, toss and read the contents of a post office box crowded with myriad pieces of paper that flooded the wee container and made me mad.

Mad, you say!

Yes, angry that I had just pumped gas into my tank, coasted down the hill over rocks, bramble and budding cholla cactus, often rushing with anticipation for that love letter from home, only to find a jumble of nothing but advertisements.

I begged the Postal Clerk one day to direct me to a service that would issue a "cease and desist" but the form never arrived and the junque kept coming. It continues even today with the odd "forwarded."

And now with the holidays upon us I see my present mailbox crowded with multiple copies of the same catalogue (don't these companies keep records), and offers for almost anything and everything from rafting (don't these companies know it is winter) to children's clothes (don't these companies know I'm not keeping house for children these days), conservation of all sorts (don't these folks know I am as green as my own palette) and much more junque.

Get out of my mailbox!