You remember it. That thing called the post office better known as snail mail. I now find myself impatient for a damn email. What makes it really stupid is it's on I sent to me. You got that? I'm sitting here fuming over an email that I sent to myself. It isn't like I don't know what the hell is in it. I sent it. How totally self-indulgent can one person get?
We have become a society of 'I want it now' individuals that can't wait one or two minutes for a frigging email. I'm so ashamed of myself and yet I still want it now. Wait I think it's here. Yep, that was it. I now have taken care of what I needed to.
So what was in this damn email that I was so impatient to get? Four frigging pictures. I've been working on something for another author and I was wanting to get them to her. Yes I could have sent them to her instead of me but I never do things the easy way. I had rather kick in the back door than come in as a guest through the front. Hey I think I've mentioned that I'm crazy. That hasn't changed any.
Anyway now I have to wait on her. Come on Deb and get back to me. Of course she had a date with a very attractive young man tonight and I don't blame her if she isn't in a hurry to get home. That doesn't mean I don't want her to however, come on Deb get your bottom home already.