...and wool in the mail.
I don't know why, but I've always loved getting the mail. Even when I was a kid, when the mail was usually for my folks, I'd run to the mailbox to see if I had a letter from a pen pal. In college, I checked the mail religiously, even though it was usually empty, hoping for a letter from home or a shipping slip saying there was a care package being held for me at the front desk. Now, even though the mail is full of bills and ads that don't exactly twist my crank, I hurry to the mail box to see what's in store.
My mailbox these days is a a brick affair that is even more crooked than it was the summer I constructed it, having been plowed over by a neighbor and re-erected using a backhoe. Still, it is a little project from my own two hands, and usually full of promise... Promise of knitting magazines or a yarn catalog.