Checking my mail always makes me a little anxious. I know that 96% of the time there's going to be nothing good, or even worse, nothing at all. I've been getting a lot of letters addressed to my ex-boyfriend and I that advertise buying joint funeral plots. Depressing on so many levels.
And yet I watch my mailbox like a hawk. Every Sunday as I automatically reach for my mail key, my heart sinks a little bit when I realize there's not even the tiniest of hope that something wonderful will be waiting inside.
Until something wonderful does turn up. Last week I got a mini surprise sent to Saipua from Christine, a darling kindred spirit who reads An Apple a Day. The envelope had 8 vintage stamps used as postage- in the accompanying letter she explained that each of the stamps was inspired by a post on the blog. Seriously. Some people are so thoughtful, sweet and kind. I'm left in shock, wondering how I've turned into such a self consumed maniac.
The inside she stuffed full with beautiful old photos, an old pullman car ticket and more of the same beautiful unused stamps. I have an idea of who I'd like to send them off to, but I think I've lost my nerve. Best to bide my time till I can figure out a good home for them.
Old stamps feel like little time capsules, almost too precious to use. Maybe I'm still in the puppy love stage, but I'm not ready to part with them. Especially the fox one, that one's all mine. I've been going as far as to call it my preciousssss, which is the highest compliment I can give to anything, living or otherwise.
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