Two weeks ago we met the firemen...

Last weekend we met the cops.
And no, we weren't being naughty. (That might come in a few more weeks when we have our big wedding reception at the farm...)

Our mailbox tried to run away during the night!

Christian called the cops thinking it was some punk kids out for a little midnight fun. After further investigation, the tire tracks through the yard (as well and the neighboring ditches) led us to believe it was a drunk driver.

The mailbox was mounted on a post sticking out of an old milk can filled with concrete. When the driver hit the mailbox, the whole unit must have gotten lodged under the car and dragged down the road. The road was all scraped up and the can was found in the ditch around the corner. 

Our renting farmer stopped by later in the day and told us that the same person who took out our mailbox must have missed the corner and plowed into his field down the road. 

So thanks a lot, asshole, for taking out our mailbox. Like we didn't have enough work to do around here without having to pick up after your mess! I hope the front end of your car is nice and smashed in. 


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