The Mailbox Saga: A Comedy of Errors (and Existential Crisis)

You ever have one of those days where a simple task turns into an odyssey of pain and self-reflection? Yeah, me too.

Today, my grand plan was simple: take my kid to an appointment, then finish installing a massive, locking mailbox for the new clinic. Should’ve been, what, an hour? Two max? Ha. Rookie mistake. I am currently still working on it, and my back is actively filing a complaint against me.

It’s like some cruel universal law.

Somewhere between wrestling this mailbox into submission and contemplating whether cement dries faster when stared at aggressively, I had a realization: projects always take longer than planned. Always. It’s like some cruel universal law.

The clinic driveway at night

Because of my delightful mailbox marathon, I missed a grand opening at Operations Spay Bay’s new clinic. Would’ve loved to see their setup and pretend for a few hours that I wasn’t the hired laborer in the ongoing construction of A HOPE’s future. But hey, there’s always next time… assuming I don’t become permanently fused to this mailbox in the process.

Where Have All the Helpers Gone?

And listen, I get it

Between adjusting bolts and muttering unholy things at my toolbox...

I found myself spiraling into another fun topic: people who say they’re dedicated to the mission… until they get tired. And listen, I get it. People have lives, priorities, and actual hobbies that don’t involve digging trenches for nonprofit work. But at the same time… when do I get to tap out? When do I get to say, “This is too much, I’m out”?

Spoiler: I don’t.

And that’s the part that stings. Because every time someone takes a “break” and never comes back, all that work doesn’t just vanish—it lands squarely on my already overloaded plate. And suddenly, instead of, I don’t know, having a social life or enjoying the networking events I used to love, I’m out here with a power drill, battling a mailbox like it's my sworn enemy.

The “I’ll Volunteer When There’s Kittens” Phenomenon

Ma’am. We’re a nonprofit

As if the day hadn’t already been an enlightening exercise in patience, a woman pulled into the clinic driveway and asked if she could be put on a waitlist for spay/neuter. I explained, very politely despite my exhaustion, that the clinic isn’t open yet. Her response?

“Oh, well, I’d love to volunteer when it is.”

The painted walls are another glimmer of hope

Ma’am. Ma’am. We’re a nonprofit. We always need volunteers. Right now, today, at this very moment, while I am literally sweating onto this mailbox.

But, of course, because we’re not actively fixing animals at this exact second, volunteering doesn’t seem real to some people. If there aren’t kittens to snuggle, it’s like we don’t exist. Meanwhile, I’m over here answering messages, coordinating events, writing grants, planning fundraisers, and—oh yeah—physically assembling the infrastructure for a clinic that will, eventually, help thousands of animals. But sure, come back when the doors are open and the hard work is done.

Conclusion: Mailbox, 1 – Me, 0

Maybe I need to get better at communicating...

At the end of the day, I’m exhausted, my back is furious, and I still don’t fully understand why some people can walk away while others (me) physically cannot. Maybe I need to get better at communicating just how much work goes into this. Maybe I need to accept that some people only want the “fun” parts. Maybe I just need to finish this damn mailbox and go to bed.

The damn mailbox

But for now, I’ll just be here, still installing this thing, contemplating the meaning of commitment, and hoping that maybe—just maybe—someone else will show up to hold the other end of the wrench.