We all have one of those friends, don’t we? The ones who feel compelled to send you every single email they get which contains either a) pictures of adorable fuzzy animals; or b) words of wisdom about God and/or children.

Don’t get me wrong. There are people who really know me and occasionally send me things that they, knowing my unique approach to life, think I will appreciate. And I do.

But it’s the ones who are really just acquaintances and are driven by some unseen hand to fill my mail with crap who make me nuts. I try to be understanding, really I do. I know they mean well. But I write this mini-rant here, in case you are one of those friends to somebody, so you will get the hint and stop. If you want someone to know you are thinking of them, send them a note that says, “Hello. I was just thinking of you and thought I’d say hi and wish you a good day.” Don’t send them an email with 20 pictures of animals that take forever to open up on their ancient dial-up connection.*

Please?

*I have been saying for I don’t know how long that we need to get DSL at the office. But nobody listens to me. I’m just the office manager, so what the hell do I know? A couple of weeks ago, the Other Doctor was in and wanted to check his email and he was absolutely mystified to learn that we still have dialup. After he left, my boss rather sheepishly suggested to me that she guessed it might be OK to look into getting DSL. Honestly, what is the matter with people that they don’t think I know what I am talking about?**

** I know I complain about my job and my boss and that I am really in no position to do so. I run around like crazy sometimes, but there are other times when nobody else is here and I just have to hold down the fort and otherwise get paid very well to read, talk on the phone, pay bills, journal, etc. My boss and I get along and respect each other (except for that little thing where she doesn’t listen to me) and I have gotten years of free “therapy” from one of the best in the business. As if that weren’t enough, she lets my family use her cottage in the woods in Ontario every summer for a week. But the real clincher is this: I just got off the phone with A, who couldn’t talk long because she had to go to an “office rodeo” for “spirit week”. I jokingly asked if that was something where they have to staple things and make copies and the unfortunate (for her) answer was “yes”. Suddenly I love my job in a whole new way. I am alone in my office, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and I will never have to participate in “spirit week”. I will never have to wear a Hawaiian shirt or sports team paraphernalia; I will have have to wear a funny hat; I will never have to have a secret pal. Amen to that.


Reading:
Zorro, Isabel Allende
National Geographic

Hearing:
Crunchy Baby Carrots

Needing:
I'm not sure.

In My Car CD Player:
Nothing. Finished my book this morning just before I got to work, so I popped it out and listened to the radio the rest of the way. I discovered that withour ever having tried to learn it or really pay attention in any way, somehow by some form of pop culture osmosis I know all the words to a Faith Hill song. (or is it Shania Twain? I always get those two mixed up. Maybe that's because I really could give a rat's ass.)