Making Dreams Come True

I took the day off and made myself a “to-do list” of things to accomplish that I have been ignoring all week. There were ten items on the list and #1 was Blog. I have a pile of newspapers full of things I wanted to comment on and I hate it when too much time passes and it’s not relevant anymore. I have a file full of half finished posts. (Stupid life keeps getting in the way.)

Despite the fact that Blog was #1 on the list, the first thing I did (okay – not the first, I went to the bathroom and had some breakfast) was go to the post office and mail my senior yearbook to Waist High. She, the keeper of all things West High related, either lost hers or burned it in a secret ritual designed make her the keeper of all things West High related. (Or she really wanted to read all the stuff people said about me when I was 18 – scary.) I don't know why she wanted it, but I agreed to loan her the yearbook in return for cold, hard cash – up front and in small bills. Instead, she sent me a check for twenty bucks. Clearly she was absent from Econ the day they taught the theory of "supply and demand."

About two seconds after she dropped the check in the mail she began hounding me to ship it to her. I promised that I would, ASAP, and then I placed it in the bag I haul around every day full of old papers, a calendar, a day planner, hair clips and some tasty snacks. I lugged that stupid book around with me for days intending to mail it, then forgetting about it completely. It was about this time W.H. began to get nasty.

She sent me threatening emails (full of enough profanity to make a hooker blush) claiming that “there are things that can be done” to me and my family if I didn’t send the yearbook immediately. I told her to kiss my ass. (See Mom! I do listen.) Then I went to the post office and paid $22.29 to have it shipped to her overnight. Happy W.H.? You will have my most precious yearbook in your hot little hands by 3:00 P.M. tomorrow and my son and I will go hungry tonight. (If the yearbook doesn’t arrive, you can send your threatening emails to the post office, get arrested and go to federal prison. Ha!) One last thing I almost forgot to mention…I am now (un)officially on the West High Class of ’86 twenty year reunion committee. What do you think of that W.H.? Maybe living in Portland ain’t so great after all.

In case you’re interested, I scratched off three items from my “to-do list” after deciding I didn’t really want to do them, accomplished six items, and will complete the last at 4:00 today. Not too shabby.

And by the way - Chuck and I talked, everything is cool, and I will not be returning your cards and flowers. Suckers.