Laurel Street Blog

Sheesh. I wish I were doing more fun things around the house this weekend but I’m stuck doing detail work. The bank is sending an appraiser as part of our refinancing homework Monday morning.

One job already under my belt for today:  I repaired the 150 year old bathroom doorknob that literally came off in my hand the other night and kept me trapped in there for 20 minutes until I could raise a sufficient rescue alarm. Antique charm, right?

So it goes… a little caulk here, a little paint there. Cleaning out the storage room, whacking back some overzealous ginger plants, sweeping pavers…

But if there was one thing I wish I could have FedExed to the house my 9:30 Monday morning it would be a substantial, historic mailbox. Not that I mind the one we have – it simply amuses me to no end.

A Victorian Specimen - You can't find these at Lowes or Home Depot when you are on a deadline, dang it.

What’s funny about a mailbox? Well, it’s A) the wrong type of mailbox, B) it’s incorrectly affixed to the front iron fence by previous owners with rope and C)  then it was incorrectly fixed again with bailing wire!

I know, I know. It's a scandalous state of postal affairs. But it just tickles me. Except when I find that it has rained.

It’s a typical New Orleans thing to be amused by something like this. And it’s a pretty New Orleans attitude to just let things be. But I have a feeling this thing will be gone by Monday a.m.