In a previous post, I recounted my (failed) efforts to deliver some misdirected mail. (I say “failed” cause I couldn’t find the dang place.)
Today, I finally located this mystery address and I’m amazed they get any mail at all. It’s a landscaping company tucked away at the far end of a cul-de-sac, at the back of an industrial complex that appears, from the front, to be either under renovation or condemned.
Windows are boarded up and rusted-out wrecks sit in the parking lot. All that’s missing is a broken screen door flapping in the wind on one hinge — oh, and maybe Boo Radley on the porch.
I brought my husband with me this time and I’m glad I did. I never would have been brave enough to walk alone around the back of this building. Even with him there, I half expected a pack of rabid Dobermans to come bounding around the corner any minute.
But, to my surprise, there were only piles of rocks, paving stones and a lone landscaper unloading rolls of sod from a truck. He didn’t seem to notice us, so we walked into the “office” — basically an open garage with a desk, lots of gardening tools and an old rotary dial phone (I was tempted to use it for old time’s sake).
I put the envelope on the table and, as we left, walked over to the landscaper and explained what we’d done. Poor guy, I think we startled him. Working all alone like that, he should probably get a guard dog — maybe even a Doberman….