*I don't actually know the definition of fetish, but it sounds mischevious and so I chose to use it as the title, perhaps compulsion might have been a more accurate choice but it makes me sound commitable and so I did not chose it, ah artistic rights.
When I went to college there was a wall of mailboxes just before you entered the cafeteria and being that it was bridal college we all ate together all the time, (how else are you supposed to find a mate?), and so if you got mail everyone knew about it. There was the infamous "pink slip" which signaled that you had a package. More often than not those with "special someones" back home got a lot of pink slips, (and those with mother's having a hard time letting go), mail was a highlight in the day. It's true that some people would leave things in their mailbox like granola bars so that at each meal they would get something from their mailbox. It could be a piece of lint, but if your box contained something you were the envy of everyone else. My therapist made a lot of money off of me dealing with the mail wall.
I still check my mailbox just before lunch, and then every hour on the hour after that until mail arrives. I'm a loser baby. What would I do if my mailbox was at the end of a long driveway? Exercise?? I know that as a grown up 99.9% of mail is bills or people offering you a credit card that will change your life, but I still check and get little butterflies everytime I open the lid and the same sinking feeling when there's nothing there.
Now I don't get mail often, most of my friendships are maintained online and there really isn't any reason to send me anything, but I still crave it. So I got myself a magazine subscription for my birthday. When Nick rolled his eyes I just explained "honey I have needs. Which he can't argue with, unless he wants to lose that line in his arsenal.
But last winter we refused to shovel our walk. We live in a fourplex and we're the only ones who do any kind of maintenance and so we refused. We refused until we got a letter stating "Due to the dangerous condition of your walk you will no longer be receiving your mail.". No joke, they called our bluff. Minutes later we bought a bag of ice melt and I spent many many hours outside during Belle's afternoon nap trying to break up three feet of snow with a PLASTIC shovel. Eventually we got that walk cleaned and our mail delivery resumed. I could breath again and Nick stopped working on the padded room.
I also love sending mail. Last night I packed up a baby package and it's sitting on my desk just waiting to be taken to the post office, which I'm delaying because the baby isn't born yet and I don't want to seem too eager to have my gift enjoyed. I write letters when I don't need to and I actually mail in some of my bills instead of paying them online! Annual Christmas letters are one of my favorite parts of the season, and I think I might just keep having kids so I can continue making baby announcements and thank you notes........I really should harness this crazed need and energy into something productive.
But now you know about my mail fetish.