I hate mud

Yesterday it started raining. And it hasn't stopped. After a whole evening, night, and day of constant, sometimes heavy, rain, the ground is a wee bit wet. Think huge mudflat. Because after all, we live in the middle of a construction zone and everything around us is in some state of being torn up and rebuilt. We live in a townhouse community and our mailbox is 2 buildings down. Right smack dab in the middle of 3 buildings that are in various stages of construction and none of those stages include landscaping or sidewalks. (You can see where this is going, can't you?)

It's been a messy pain to get to the mailboxes, but I've put up with it knowing that it's only temporary. Today I knew it would be worse, yet I decided to brave the elements and go get the mail anyway. I went prepared with my big umbrella and my tall rainboots because I'd seen the mud and muck that I would have to navigate to get to my mailbox. I get down there and decide that there's just no good way to get to the mailbox. The mailbox is several steps back from the road and the construction guys in their infinite wisdom have put up a little fence around it so we have to walk even *further* to get to the mailboxes.

I take one step and its not too bad. Another step and things are still going well. Right foot ahead for step #3 and suddenly I've sunk down into the mud up to my knee.

Nice.

Did I mention that these mailboxes are in the middle of 3 buildings that are under construction? There are at least 3 dozen workers swarming around yet not one notices my plight. At least they couldn't laugh at me, but there wasn't anyone to help me either. I put the umbrella down, found some ground firm enough to support me, and managed to pull my leg out *with* the boot still on. As I was hauling myself up on the concrete platform where the mailboxes were mounted, a worker came hurrying over in concern. Sorry, too late.

There I was dripping mud and thanking my lucky stars that my phone and keys had survived. I finally got the mailbox open and...

It was empty.

Of course it was. The mail lady was obviously smarter than I was.

I made it back to the street without any further incidents, but I was mad. MAD. I remembered that I had just seen the construction supervisor at another house doing a walkthrough or something. I marched down the street, mud and all, thinking of *exactly* what I wanted to tell that man and it wasn't what you would call ladylike. I rang the doorbell and the prospective neighbor answered, staring in shock and horror at my mud covered clothes. When the supervisor came to the door, his eyes got huge. "You have GOT to give us access to our mailboxes," was all I said.

He almost fell over himself apologizing and assuring me that would call the guys *immediately* and the concrete will be poured the minute it stops raining. Yep. Showing up on the doorstep covered in mud makes a far bigger impact than just asking for something to be done. After all that plus 10 minutes of standing in the cold washing my boots and pants at the outdoor faucet, all I gotta say is my neighbors and the mail lady had better be thankful.