...is that it's Monday. And why am I so happy it's going to be Monday? Because we get mail!
I always feel sad and isolated on Sundays, when there's no mail service in the US. Everything stalls. Or it seems like that to me anyway.
I've even been known to get a little restless on Sundays. I'd like to think I can attribute that to a lack of mail. I can even get cranky, but then again, I'm usually cranky anyway. ^_^;
Ever since I was tiny I've received news and love from family and friends via letters and other mailed notes and post cards. I moved to Mexico from Italy. Then from Mexico to Downers Grove. From high school to college. Then to a college dorm the last year I was in college. Then from college to our new house in Western Illinois...
The receiving of mail--not necessarily junk mail, or spam like I refer to it sometimes--is ALWAYS a highlight in my day. Even at work. Did I mention I signed up for two magazine subscriptions at work so I have a reason to walk all the way down to the East end of our office to pick up something from the mail room?
Though these days, I hardly ever receive a personal note or other item from family and friends anymore. I even email my mom more than I see or call her. With electronic communications these days, I feel sad when not much comes into my physical mailbox. Email, Facebook, Twitter, and Instant Messaging have supplemented and even replaced the need to post letters and other communications.
And yet, there's just something about holding something in your hand that came from someone who thought of you, someone in another place far away. Their words and thoughts for you, ensconced safely beneath the thin envelope, waiting for you to reveal and unravel their narrative.
So I guess my "happy, happy joy, joy" response to going to get the mail, finding mail in the box, and taking the mail back home to sort/read through is now an official legacy response I inadvertently and subconsciously trained myself into.
Pavlov would be proud.
Whenever I tell the significant-other unit that I'm going to get the mail, just a casual blurted-out statement, but typically accompanied with a smile and a skipping-like stance while heading to the mailbox, he says: the mail, the mail, the mail hahaha.
It's a joke for him. Then again, my attachment to mail as a means of emotional sustenance can be considered unusual in most circles. I'm watching these little quirks lately, with the squinty eye of an analyst--wondering what wrong turn these could take...but that's a whole 'nother story.
All around, a silly instantaneous joy reaction is definitely on my good-things during the day scale. I'm always way too inside my own head and not enough out there, like normal folk.
Tomorrow will be a great Monday. I'll be skipping along to the mailbox after driving home from work, up for a little something that will make me smile.
Looking for our next smile...aren't we all?