In my neighborhood,
a car parked in the general vicinity of my mailbox + a rotter mailperson = no mail delivery for me.
I thoroughly enjoy mail. Since I was a teenager, when I reigned as the Queen of Mail*, I have enthusiastically looked forward to getting the mail every day. Sometimes I will check the mailbox 5 times to see if it's come. Needless to say, it puts me in a bad mood when I see the truck sail on past my house, punishing me for the exterminator's car parked out front.
*Items I was likely to receive in the mail on any given day during my adolescence: every single catalog known to man, letters or tapes from missionaries, chain letters, pen pal letters, letters from boys I met at Student Council camp who lived far away, sweepstakes offers, mix tapes from friends, prizes from all the contests I entered, solicitations for money from Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, UT, postcards from every friend who ever went on vacation anywhere, Sassy magazine, New Era magazine, Elle magazine, lots of other magazines, BMG packages full of my 7 free cassettes and a bill for $18 for shipping. . .and on, and on, and on.