I am no Chaka

First I am super-excited because I recieved a comment from my sockapalooza pal. WooHoo!

Now that I got that off my chest, look what I have on my finger.

Let me give you a little background. A little over six years ago, Hubby and I were having problems with our mail. You know the kind of problems where mail was missing and so forth. So Hubby and I decided to change our mailbox from the type that do not lock to one that does. Unfortunately for us, we couldn't find one that was the same style as the rest of the mailboxes in our neighborhhod.

We eventually did find a mailbox that locks, but it was in a different color. Though the color matched the pole that our previous mailbox was attachted to. Our neighbors who shared the mailbox pole aggreed that we should just change the mailbox to the new style and that was that.

Fast forward to about three weeks ago. Hubby and I recieve a letter, as well as a few other neighbors on our street, from our homeowners association stating that we needed to paint the mailbox to match the others in the neighborhood.

Hello, it's been more than six years, they just noticed?

Well rather than fight it I just painted it because I think technically they could try to get us to change it to one that looks like the rest of the neighbors. The finger was just a victim of the new neighbor who has nothing better to do than to complain about mailboxes of the homeowners associations request.

One of my neighbors and I decided that we could never be taggers/graffiti artists. Because both of us ended up with blisters on our fingers from the spray paint.

So there goes a futre career if I need one, but man, does my mailbox look shiny.

BTW, Chaka was one of the names that could be seen tagged all around Southern California for years.