As I drove in from an extremely odd day at school — a little snow in the morning kept more than half the students out and many of the teachers too, leaving a substitute almost nothing to do but stare at the clock — I rounded the corner onto my quiet little dead end street, where I am surround by the nosiest geriatric neighbors imaginable. I cannot imagine what they think of me now.
As I pulled the car closer to the mailbox, I noticed something wrong immediately.
"There are no keys in the mailbox?" I asked myself. If there are no large packages, there are keys in the boxes, but should they be filled, that key goes inside the appropriate mailbox.
"There are no keys in the mailbox!" Now, there are 16 mailboxes in that unit, representing 16 apartments, and two oversized boxes. Assuming each key was in a different mailbox, I still had a 7 in 8 chance of being safe. Luckily I was in the car alone, because, as my subconscious mind was doing the math, my conscious mind would have grabbed the person in the passenger seat by the face and shaken them until they understood this one fact.