Instructions for my husband: you can't just quit the mail.

See this? This is your mail. The mail I carefully, methodically leave for you every day in your neat brown mail bin so that nothing goes missing or lost within our home post office.

There's one small thing though: the system only works if you take a teensy little glimpse through your mail once in a while.

I know there is important stuff in there, that's why sometimes in addition to my sorting duties I tell you things like "there's a letter marked post-due," or "I saw some official-ly looking stationery. You should open that one, maybe."

It's sorta funny and cute when I ask you to go through the mail and you scoff, "Nah, I'm done with mail." But the thing is you can't be done with mail - or at least, you can't be done with it yet.

Maybe one day mail will go the way of dial-up modems and cassette tapes, but until then you have mail, good, old-fashioned mail, and you need to take care of it.

And don't ask me to just read/pay/reply to said pieces of mail, I already do - to the pieces addressed to me, stored prettily in my pink mail bin. All that mail pictured here? Is yours, all yours.

Look at it this way, the mail service just axed Saturday delivery, just five more days to go and your mail-free lifestyle is reality.

This is the twenty-eighth instruction in my ongoing series of Instructions for My Husband. Have an instruction for your other half? Email me at anna@randomhandprints.com and be a guest instructor.

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