Ah, the memories of last spring...the longer days, sunshine, flowers blooming, and the smell of freshly mown grass and your neighbor’s meals on their grill wafting through the rain cleaned air. And the teens emerging from their homes, squinting in the harsh light, sometimes without focus and purpose, sometimes with a can of spray paint just itching to make its mark.

The remnants of one of these cans could still be seen on the mailboxes of 147th Place...much to the dismay of the new postal worker who has a hard enough job without having to guess what the box number is.

A little paint thinner + elbow grease and made quick work of it and the numbers are once again gleaming and beckoning for junk mail.

If any other numbers in the neighborhood were painted and you would like them cleaned up I would be happy to share my can of solvent and a pair of rubber gloves...and possibly my teen, who would charge a minimal fee for his services.