Yesterday was a Blogger’s Sick Day. I did not post, because I felt like crap. I almost did not post this morning, because I thought, “I don’t have anything to say. What is the point in yet another post where I offer a lame excuse about why I didn’t post yesterday.” Then I thought of something to say.
Long time readers know I write actual snail mail letters. At least, I don’t think I have mentioned that lately, but I do. This week, I have been working on a letter to my sister Diane, who also writes letters (in much prettier handwriting than mine, but never mind that now). I sat at the break table at work, before my shift started, writing. A co-worker walked by.
“You writing a novel?”
“Just a letter to my sister.”
“Nobody does that an more!”
“We do.”
The next day, it was my boss asking. He pointed out the existence of phone calls and Face Time.
I said, “Nobody wants to see this face for any length of time.”
He said I would be surprised at the faces that do it. It’s true. No face is so ugly that somebody, somewhere, isn’t happy to see it. I hope.
Next a co-worker asked me if I was writing a “journal of this place.” Certainly not! I guess this counts as a workplace anecdote, but this is not and has never been a work blog. That could get me in trouble with management.
Mohawk Valley Girl 