As of late, I have been literally swamped by mail. Not the email kind, but the real, made-of-paper, in different handwritings and stylings, and in different folds and various sized envelopes.
The kind that comes with stamps.
It's been damp outside recently, and some of the paper has that little bit of roughness, that curl-up and dried feel to it. Like the fake money you bought at the 8th grade field trip to Gettysburg.
It's that kind of thing, and it makes me happy.