Awhile back, I created a little something for someone which I sent off in the mail, a little gift of sorts. It was a little something that took me, oh, about 20 hours to create. But whatever. That is neither here nor there.
Several weeks, maybe even a month has passed, and I have heard nothing, no acknowledgement, nada. It is like I am dead to them. Although. How can a dead person spend 30 hours making a lil’ something to drop in the mail? Can’t. So naturally, my feelings are devastated shredded whipped bruised an itsy bit hurt given that I spent about 40 hours working on this little creative gifty thing.
So, I’m thinking that is kind of weird. Either they hated it or are offended or both. Or they hate me. Or all three. Or! They don’t appreciate that I spent 50 hours of my life working on this little bit o’ art.
So I tell AD about it and he does this thing that always aggravates me. He’s logical. And charitable. And worse? He takes up for the offending party. “Well they probably never received it,” he said.
It is lonely on my bandwagon. Yes it is. Many seats are available. Form one line please.
Shortly thereafter my cell phone rings but I can’t get to it before it goes to voice mail. Later I check the voice mail and it is someone from a galaxy far far away, in another area code, someone I don’t know. She has left a long and rambling message for someone who is not me. For five minutes she talks about the new baby and the yarn she has bought and what would I like for her to make for the new baby and on and on.
I considered calling the yarn lady back, but I have a phone phobia. I do not like to talk on the telephone. I am fearful that I might just blurt out some random thought (a lot like this post) or that I might launch into an unfortunate choice of story and not be able to stop myself. Like this post.
And based on the length of the message, I have to assume she would engage me and there would be talking, a lot of talking, maybe even about yarn which I know nothing about, and I just can’t do it. I’m just telling you that up front because I know y’all will blast me for not returning the call. But I just can’t. I would email her but that is the one bit of information she didn’t leave.
So when AD came down for lunch, I told him about the yarn lady and the wrong number.
He shook his head and laughed and may have even pointed his finger at me. “Somewhere,” he said “there is a woman with hurt feelings because someone never acknowledged her.”
So I said the most obvious and logical thing. “Fine! Fix your own lunch.”