Friday, May 25, 2007

Write or Wrong?

If you call my house and expect someone to take a message, don't. It's just not going to happen. We'd like to, we really would, but we can't. Why not? Because we can't hang onto a notepad and a functioning writing utensil for more than 2 hours. Oh, I bring the stuff home. I've bought more pens than Hershey's has kisses, but they disappear the minute they hit our house. I hate hearing the words"let me give you that address" on the other end of the phone line because that prompts a furious search for something to write WITH and something to write ON, and I know I won't have both. Paper comes first. Let's see, how about the back of the water bill, an old church bullentin, the tab on that snapshot of our trip to Gatlinburg or that book I need to return to the library? I usually settle for a paper towel. Next comes the writing utensil. I can pick from an orange crayon, a dull eyeliner pencil, a big fat permanant marker (where was that when I needed it last week?) and a stubby pencil with broken lead. Hmm. I could always sprinkle a little flour of the counter and write with my finger. No, I'll take the pencil, sharpen it with a kitchen knife and scratch out the number on the paper towel. All of this requires a little tap dance of conversation to cover up the fact that I am sharpening the pencil, slicing my finger, washing out the cut and putting on a band aid.

If I'm not at home, I usually just pull out a deposit slip and lipstick. Since I make far fewer deposits than withdrawals, I always have plenty of deposit slips sitting in my wallet. Of course, all of this leads to yet another embarrassing moment when I eventually need the information on these homemade notes and start pulling paper towels and lipstick smeared deposit slips out of my purse.

The positive side to all of this is that these frantic little searches turn up other things I've been missing. I may not having anything to write with, but I now know the whereabouts of an unopened package of party invitations, my daughter's birth certificate, ticket stubs from our honeymoon, the dog's rabies tag and a two year old pack of Skittles.

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