GRIDLOCKED

Manteo, NC -- Our society is not set up to deal with drifters like us. There is no clean way to go off the postal grid.

We now have a post office box in Delaware, but we want OFF the lists, not to have the junk FORWARDED.

Sure we could just ditch and leave the new owners of our house and business to shovel the deluge of paper, but, well, that seems rude.

For two entire years, we have called everyone who has sent us a piece of mail and asked them to desist. We have gone online to request removal from lists, returned mail with RETURN TO SENDER in red Sharpee. We have called again -- and again. I have called The Company Store more than I've called my own mother. You just wouldn't believe how much freaking time we have invested in erasing ourselves.

And still, the wine shop gets spammed with piles of trash. We bring the pile of trash to the boat and once again call, write, return to sender, lick our paper cuts.

Then, here's the worst part, we order something and have it delivered to a friend's house. Guess who now inherits our junk mail. AAAAAHHHHHHH.

Not having a physical address causes some odd dilemmas. This is one of my favorites: I went to my credit card's web site to stop mailings to the wine shop. No problem, I'll have them mail stuff to the PO box in Delaware. Problem.

There are three mailing addresses associated with the account: A card mailing address, a correspondence mailing address and a statement mailing address. One of them has to be a physical address, no PO box. So, stick with me here, I put the PO box as the card mailing adress and the correspondence address. I left the wine shop address as the statement address and signed up for paperless statements. Will this work? That remains to be seen.

A few weeks ago I tried to add Google ads to my blog to make a little money when you click here. Guess what? You can't use Google ads without a physical address. Post office boxes don't count.

If I were smarter I would think of a clever play on "I think, therefore I am."

Sigh. Don't write.

POST OFFICE BLOCKS

Our tenuous plan for handling our mail: Get a P.O. Box near Chip's parents in Bridgeville, Delaware. Easy.

My conversation with the post office worker went something like this:

Me: I need info on renting a P.O. box.

Dude, looking all confident: All you need is a driver's license and a car insurance card.

Me, feeling hopeful: Do I have to be a Delaware resident?

Dude, looking impatient: No, but we have to send a letter to your current residence and have it sent back to us with proof of residence.

Me, feeling less hopeful: You mean, like a physical address?

Dude, looking somewhat confused: Yes?

Me, feeling ashamed: I don't have an address. I live on a boat.

"You live on a boat!?!?"

We stared at each other for a minute or so.

Me, grasping at straws: What if I used my in-laws' address?

"Okay, what's their address?"

"I don't know. I don't live there."

Dude, longing for a customer who wants a simple book of stamps: I better go ask.

He walks away and then turns back: How long are you gonna be doing this?

As far as the U.S. Postal Service is concerned, we do not exist. I hope they notify the IRS.

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

Our culture just isn't set up for leaving the dirt behind. Take mail for instance.

For the last year, we've methodically tried to cut back on the volume of mail that we receive. Every time a piece of mail came in, we would call and ask the sender to delete us from their list. It always got tedious when they asked why. The lady at AARP was particularly flummoxed. I don't think "Moving onto a boat" was on the checklist. She said, "I'll just put 'going to sea,'" which I'm sure must be the AARP metaphor for "deceased."

Despite our constant attention to mail issues, when it came time to move out of the house in July, I had not thought about how to handle the remaining mail, things we couldn't legally leave behind like IRS information and car registration. In a last minute effort to avoid actually dealing with the issue, I had the post office hold our mail until I figured out what to do. That was working great until I realized they were also holding the mail of the new owner of our house.

I didn't want to pay for a post office box. Our new apartment doesn't have a mailbox. So, again under the gun, I had the mail forwarded to our work address. Our official residence is now a wine shop.

You might ask, like I do, what happens next? When we sell the store, we can't exactly forward the wine shop mail. I look forward to a life without catalogs of wine diva t-shirts and wine glass flip flops, and the new owners will likely want things like wine license renewal notices.

There are mail handling services for people doing what we're doing (cruising, I mean, not waiting to cruise). This year we might actually have to talk to them at the boat show before I get our mail any more twangled than it already is. Please don't drop us a line.