An awful mix of rain and snow, mixed with a touch of ice was falling from the sky.  The term is sleet.  You nod your head in silent agreement.  The term sleet sounds just like one might imagine it to be.  Unpleasant.

It is nearly noon , so you move to the sofa by the bay window to look out to the sidewalk for the one thing that can make any unpleasant weather nothing but a distant thought.

You could set a clock to his arrival.  Everyday, right on time, your Postman.

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds”.  As you watch his well toned thighs ascend your walk and approach your door, the unofficial credo of the postal worker plays in your mind.

Swift completion is the last thing on either of your minds when you open the door.

How many times does he ring your bell before he continues his appointed rounds?

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