Mailbox phobia

Apparently I have a fear of checking my mail.  It really doesn’t matter what kind of mail: voicemail, e-mail, the actual mail-in the mailbox mail.  This fear has allowed me to pretty much ignore the mailbox all summer, and today I had to actually go to the post office to get my mail.  Because apparently those little boxes only hold so much, even with cramming stuff in.  So when your mailbox gets too full, the carrier brings it back to the post office, and you have to walk in and get it and explain, no, you did not ask for your mail to be held.  Just smile and mentally beg for your mail so you can leave before the kids turn into heathens in front of the sweet old lady who told you how cute they were.  Agonizing.  

However, I had promised A I would go get the mail last Monday.  So I did.  I did not promis to sort it  so it sat in a brown paper bag in my front room, which could be a formal living room, but is instead our entryway/craft area/dumping ground for everything.  Tuesday my sister in law and I went blueberry picking with our kids.  So I was able to put off the massive mail sort for another day.  I know I am sick, but this was me winning.