Every day brings a hill of mail to the Rondarosa. Sometimes I beg Tink not to get the mail because I know it will bring more work. “Have you gotten the mail today?” he will ask. Like a child pleading not to get a spanking, I’ll say, “No! Please don’t get it. Please. I’m caught up right now and if you bring in the mail, I’ll be right back where I started this morning: behind.” But he can’t resist.