Eight letters and one postcard went out today. Oh, happy day. Only forty and a few to go. It gives me such a sense of accomplishment to watch my In Box get skinny. If only it were true. Truth is, I have a mail mess on my hands. There's mail here, mail there, mail-mail-mail everywhere! It's a lot like discovering Easter eggs in December. I just laugh. I gave up guilt because it hasn't written a single letter for me.
Last night was hilarious. I sent a letter to the wrong person. Leonie, I hope you will be amused and that will forgive me. I didn't have the heart to toss all those words. You will understand when you get my letters. I'm slowly establishing order to the chaos I've created. I'm teaching my adult self to be patient. It's not easy when I'm in a creative or letter-writing mood. I'm using eating my lovely elephant with my fingers. Words run across my pages like peach juice dripped across my palm, and down my arm when I was a kid. I'm not stressed out about being so far behind with mail. I'm especially enjoying it because I feel like talking. Know what I mean?
I am not a morning talker. It takes me a while to find my way back from the Land of Nod. I can only grunt if forced. I am not good at small talk either. I answered a two-page letter with six of my own. That does not mean that what I write about is worth the paper I use, but aren't letters meant to be written conversations? I try. That's all I can say.
So. I have mail all over the place, and I am trying to answer, but there are times when I think my memory is still prime, so I . . . It's like being able to remember about ten of y'all's addresses. For real. All because I wrote to you so often. I know you know what I am trying to say. Well, it's like "use it or lose it." I haven't used them in too long, so I have to resort to my trusty 2011 Planner.