My mailbox runneth over and it's Carol's fault

Mail. I hate mail! I end up with tall piles of it stacked on my counter top because I avoid going through it. After all, how many Capitol One credit card applications can a person get? Rie's mom, Carol, gave me a brilliant piece of advice to keep it under control. "Only touch the mail once," she said. Great idea the first week or so. I brought the mail in every couple of days, opened it, sorted it, trashed it, shredded it, and filed it. Wow, that worked well ... until I didn't want to do it one day. One day ran into another day, etc. Enough time had passed that the thought of going through the mail only once was overwhelming. I knew there would be a ton of it and I was dreading bringing it into the house. So, I left it in the box for another day, and another, and another.
Finally, I planned my strategy. I would go straight home after work, get the mail out of the box, and not even turn on the television until every flyer and envelope had been dealt with. But upon opening my box, instead of finding the huge stack of mail I knew would be waiting for me, I only found one single slip of paper. It seems that my mail had become so out of control that it wouldn't even fit in my apparently not big-enough box any longer. That little slip of paper was directing me to pick it up at the main post office....you know, the one on PEGASUS! You can bet, I now make sure I empty my mailbox every few days. I may dread it, but that long trip out to timbuktu keeps me on my toes. I now retrieve it, toss it on the counter and I try to walk away. But that darn Carol's voice comes haunting me again,"Touch it only once." "Touch it only once."

It's pretty bad when it takes a postal box to get it home.



Honestly, was anything in this box of mail more important than McDreamy on the People magazine?