I had a check for several thousand dollars go astray this past week. The people who mailed it assured me it had been sent. I waited. I waited some more. I figured if they were stretching the truth and had not mailed it on the first of the month, it might arrive on the 4th. Nope. I’d have to wait through the weekend. I’d begun with the name calling, and fussing about people telling lies. It was going to be a looooong weekend.
September had been a rough month, with thousands of dollars in payments for the flood repairs to the house, plus, of course, it was tax month. I had already drained my savings account. Since retirement, I have money filter in monthly from several different accounts, some direct deposit, others by the old-fashioned check. I don’t keep much money in a liquid state. I stick to my monthly budget and only rarely take from my IRA. To do that requires five business days. My life would be a mess if I didn’t receive that usual monthly check.
I had read my horoscope for October, and it sounded dreadful. Mercury was retrograde. We all know what that means with things going missing, and communications getting mixed up. Do you believe in such things? Also, there was a blood moon, the full moon falling on my birthday. Talk about strange energy.
When I’m frustrated, or have that sense of lack-of-control, I either read and escape into someone else’s fantasy world building, watch a ton of movies, or I get busy and do hard physical work. On Sunday, I spent the day painting the master bedroom, new baseboards, and rearranging furniture. It didn’t help. By Sunday night, I was having bad dreams and insomnia. Monday came and went…no check. I called again and was further assured it had been mailed. Frustrated beyond belief, I said I’d give it one more day, and if it didn’t arrive we’d have to put a stop payment on that check. Then I’d have to drive to L.A. and get a replacement check, because I had bills to pay. Soon.
On Tuesday, (with my decision made that I’d await mail delivery, and if the letter was not there, I’d drive straight up to L.A.) I was calmly sweeping the garage floor. I had the door open. The mail van whizzed up the street and the mailman smiled and waved. A new mailman, I thought, continuing to sweep. Then it hit me. I jumped into the car and followed him to our community mailboxes.
He had the back of the box open and was popping mail into the individual cubby holes. We can only access our personal mailbox from the front, and with a key. I asked him if it was possible that the envelope, which I described, could be in the wrong slot. He graciously shook out people’s mail, and there it was, two spaces over, in the box for my Canadian neighbors who would not return until Thanksgiving. The postal stamp was September 29th.
I grabbed the letter, offering profuse thanks, (even though it was a PO mistake.) I called the company and told them what had happened. On the way to the bank, I said a little prayer asking for forgiveness for the name-calling, mistrust, kicking of walls, oh, and for the drunken-sailor-cuss-words.
Do you believe there is always an answer within us? If I’d done less name-calling, stayed positive, and been more conscious of sitting quietly and trying to figure this out, would I have found the answer sooner?