Halo dere!

As you probably know, your friend Fred is a living saint.

But as you follow this blog day after day, you wonder: What makes me think that? Just an impression I get? Certainly not anything Fred does.

Well, that may be the case, and if so it's clear that my angelic modesty has prevented me from talking about all my good deeds.

Here's the main one: I am a great closer of mailboxes.

You know what happens. The mailman leaves mail and doesn't close the mailbox door properly. Or the homeowner picks it up and lazily slaps the box closed, not seeing that it popped right back open. Or the wind pries it open. Or a thief. Or the stupid box is old and decrepit and can't close with any certitude anymore. Whatever the reason, you have a mailbox hanging open at the house, door lying there like a moronic, drooling lower lip, lolling in the breeze, making the whole property and its people look like shiftless dumbbells.

That's where I come in.

If I'm trotting along, walking the dog or something, and I see the box? I'm closing it. Because that's the kind of saint I am.

Before

After

You're welcome!

Now everything looks pin-neat and refreshed. No passerby thinks that the folks in the house are careless idiots. Nope, they think the place is smart and refined, even though it probably isn't. All because I went out of my way to do a good deed, a deed for which I expect no recompense nor thanks, out of the goodness of my shining, golden heart.

If only more people could be like me. Ah, humanity!