I went home and asked my friend for advice on what I should do about Fred's books. And she said I should take his books with me and leave a note in his mailbox to tell him I had it. Honestly, I thought that was kind of creepy-ish, though I really have no right to say that after trying to open every mailbox in the whole place. Well I decided to stop by the office while my housemate and I were waiting for the bus to go on to campus anyways. I went to check the locker to see if his books were there, thankfully yes, and I also showed her how my key opens Fred's mailbox just as easily as it does our compartment. Off I went then to report my problem, but the office people were really confused with what happened here. I'm just relieved they didn't press me on the issue that I should have gone home and looked for my mailbox number instead of...y'know. Well they seemed to grasp the concept after a few more explanations of what mailbox I opened, why the key wouldn't come out, and that books were still left unlocked in the open. And actually they came up with the most reasonable solution to the overly complicated mess I got myself into, just go deliver the books to the guy myself. Wow, that was simple. Was I too dumbfounded by my mailbox situation that I couldn't figure that out? Maybe. I sprinted out, all excited that I'm finally doing the right reparations to fix this. It was all about to be resolved! I grabbed the locker handle and opened the locker....the books...were GONE!! I freaked out! What are the chances that in the 10 minutes I last checked it, it would be missing?!?! Probability sucks, chance sucks, so for the last time I decided to open his mailbox, and found out his usual letters and newspaper were also taken. I'm supposing now that Fred was the person that got all his mail as well as his books since that's all I could really hope for! Well most likely it is what happened as I went back to the office and they told me not to worry about it anymore, and then I thought about it again.
Many things in my life seem to resolve itself without me really doing anything. The only difference between me reporting and not reporting the mix up is the knowledge I tried my best to fix the situation. It seems my life may be planned to be undramatic, rarely any friend fights, never any illicit trysts. Boring? But I'm not complaining, people who look for stress will find it. And perhaps I was as lucky as originally thought, I didn't have to get officially involved with Fred and he never had to know about me opening his mailboxes, several times. Thanks Fred for checking for your own books, and we will most likely never meet.