What the Hail?

You won’t believe this story – but it’s true. It was one of “those” days today.

After getting home late from a tiring day in the city I walked the 1/8th mile jaunt to my mailbox. There was a break in the rain and I figured it was now or never. I tucked the huge bundle of mail under one arm and held up a lantern with the other so I could see the numbers on the cold steel combination lock which secures our gate.

My fingers were stiff and slow to find the right combination. Just as I got the numbers set in place it started to rain. Quickly I wrapped the the lock through the large ranch style gate, flipped the numbers and turned with the intention of scurrying up the hill before getting drenched; but before I stepped away I realized that I hadn’t placed the lock around both the post and the gate. So, in the rain, with chilled fingers, I held up the lantern once again and struggled to re-enter the code. Then, it began to hail.

I tried to hurry, but that only slowed me down. So, patiently I concentrated on the numbers and tried to forget the hail that was now large and heavy. Finally, I re-locked the gate and turned to go back up the driveway, but as I stepped away the lantern flew out of my hand and crashed against the post. In my narrow minded, concentrated effort, I had wound the steel cord through the handle of my lantern before re-locking the gate.

By now the hail had whitened my hair, flown down my neckline (brrrr!) and was stinging my wet hands as it hit my frigid skin. Frustrated, I thought of leaving the lantern attached to the gate until morning. Instead, again I suffered hail, cold and now, no lantern to illuminate the numbers, I re-opened the lock, withdrew my lantern, re-locked the gate for the 3rd time and finally, again, I turned to go up the hill. All this time my trusty dog had been by my side, but I had forgotten about her and as I turned I stepped on her. She yelped, I jumped, landed in a puddle and lost my grip on the mail under my arm which quickly fell into the watery ditch next to the gate.

So there I was, in the dark with my wet dog, hail stuck to my hair, on my knees, searching a ditch for mail that was probably all marked “occupant.”

As I turned for the last time toward the house, I had to laugh. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband what had just happened. Surely he would think I made it all up – but I didn’t.

Hope your day was just as fun.