As you read this, you'll know exactly what a petty, self-centered so and so I am.
When I got home today, I got a form note from the postal delivery person (it's not an actual postal worker, because our mail is delivered by an independent contractor who drives a regular car around while he sits on the wrong side and drives half-assed) saying that my mail box wasn't accessible, and if I didn't fix it, they wouldn't deliver the mail any more.
The last time the city plow came through, it left a heavy berm of solid ice in the drive and along the road, a couple feet from the curb. (The mailbox top is even with the curb and chest high on me when I stand on the street in summer.)
So I spent about an hour and a half with my metal gardening shovel, trying to break the ice away, and then the show shovel and hands to move the chunks of ice off the road.
I don't know if it's adequate. You can see that I dug back about two feet and down about two feet, and about 12 feet long. (The box part is chest high when I stand on the street in the summer to get my mail.)
If it's not adequate, then the postal delivery person won't deliver mail to my house, and I'll have to go to the post office to pick it up. That's not actually so bad. I live in a small enough town that there's hardly ever much of a line at the post office. And I don't get much important mail, so it's not like I need daily mail.