MY GENERATION!

One thing that is routine for me is to check my junk mail, (or spam mail,) immediately after checking what is in my inbox.  That is, of course, unless I do not.  There are very few occasions when I do not, as the little old lady who sits in her attic and goes through the world's electronic messages, to see if they are suitable for the receiver, occasionally has lapses of memory, or perhaps has a contrary day, and puts something very important into the wrong box.  It happens!  The postman has done it more than once, no doubt by accident, and it is highly possible that the geriatric sorter does not have malice aforethought, and that I am being unkind by saying she has a contrary day.  Suffice it to say, benefit of the doubt, or just plain mistrust, I check my junk mail every day, unless I do not!

The email from the dentist did not arrive at all.  The text did!  I knew that I was due an appointment, but had not written it down, as they are most proficient at sending me an electronic message.  So efficient are they at sending electronic messages, that I usually receive one three weeks before, two weeks before, one week before and then, in case I should forget, or not check my spam in the event that it may be sent there, I get one a day before.  However, should the geriatric lady in her attic be on holiday, and tells her wayward grandson he can earn a few dollars, but he must sit at the desk, day and night until she gets back, (which she trusts he will do, as he is a lovely boy really, just easily led and someone just needs to give him a chance to prove himself,) I get a text.  Not everyone has the same confidence in the wayward grandson, and with good reason.  Whilst convincing his grandmother that she knows him best, and he really only needs someone to trust him, the parties in the attic are riotous and loud.  

Arriving at the dentist, I was greeted with a gushing welcome, and asked to take a seat.  The hygienist appeared at the inner door, and called me in.  "You always look so well put together.  That is an amazing jacket.  Can I touch it?"  I had to laugh.  Said jacket is rather stunning.  I have had it for years, but it never fails to impress. A pattern of emerald green, navy and gold makes it look luxurious, and it does look like it is more than just the linen print.  I took my seat and listened as the lovely lady inspected my pearly whites.  Cleaning took place and then the Nordic Nymph came skipping in to make sure there was nothing untoward lurking about in or around my molars!  Apparently, all was good!  I was delighted.  "See you in six months!" she said, and skipped out to music that appeared to be playing only in my head (and perhaps hers) and disappeared into the air!  I was asked if I needed to have a note of my next appointment.  I said that I did not as I would remember the date.  "You will get emails, and texts", said the lovely hygienist, who probably was a nymph before she took on human form, and became mortal!  I mentioned that I had not received a single email.  "Did you check spam?"  I responded in the affirmative, and said that I was surprised, as I usually get a reminder every day for six weeks!  "Let's check we have the correct address.  We can call if you want?  That way it wont be so much of a surprise. What would be best?"  I told her that the best thing would be for her not to actually tell me when my appointment was, but to call twenty minutes before to say that I had ten minutes to get there!  That way I would not get too stressed for too long.  She found that to be too funny!  Amazingly enough, all my vitals were perfect when I arrived and also when I left.  

Despite the fabulous report at the dentist, I did not sleep very well. My tempur-pedic memory foam pillow appears to have memory problems.  Perhaps I have given it too much to remember! I think that it is not so much that it has lost its memory, but does not remember it had a memory! It quite literally appears to have had a 'breakdown'. The foam no longer feels like one piece, but more like stuffing from a favourite old toy.  A brick could not have been less comfortable. Another thing to put on my list!

Checking emails during the day does not take long.  The lady in the attic seemed to be taking a sabbatical, as there appeared to be a lot of mail that had previously been deemed 'junk' reappearing in my inbox. That which found its way into the 'junk' box was not junk at all.  Perhaps this should have been a warning.  No doubt, the grandson was once again falling prey to those who told him that life is for living and not sorting out other people's emails!  Just like Pinocchio, he was shown a 'good time' and the consequences of such, seemed so far away that he chose to ignore the nagging voice of his grandmother in his head.  

I closed my computer for the day, and the next day, when I checked my emails, there was an influx of work that caused me to fail to do the one thing I know I should do, regularly, especially when there has been an obvious anomaly.  

The day after the concert, I found the email in my junk box.  I can hear the deafening silence as I now reveal the content of the email.  "You have won....".  When?  If the email could talk, it would have said, "Yesterday!"  The day after the concert, I found the email that told me I had won tickets to see 'The Who'!  I missed it!   As I said in the beginning, one thing that is routine for me is to check my junk mail, (or spam mail,) immediately after checking what is in my inbox.  That is, of course, unless I do not!

I wondered if there would be consequences in the attic!  Surely the smell of stale beer and cigarettes would be enough of a tale tell sign that the old lady's grandson did not do his job, that he was given a chance but failed.  

Suffice it to say, not a lot happened this week!  A lot could have happened this week, like a bad dental report, or an amazing description of one of the greatest concerts ever attended, (perhaps,) but due to the love and confidence in a grandson, the latter was not to be.  What is the moral of the story?  There really isn't one!  Next week may prove to have a little more excitement.  Find out in ..... another story!