Possumblog

Okay, I may be a moron, but I ain't crazy.

You know how you sorta plan things in your mind, and in your mind things look a certain way, and they're done in a certain way, at a certain place and pace?

That?

Well, this anniversary party deal--we picked up the invitations Tuesday evening, and although they aren't expensive engraved ones (they're ones printed in the printer's own shop) they still look nice--simple buff-colored panelled cards, with a neatly composed set of instructions done up in French Script font.

I had thought to myself that we needed to sit down Tuesday and get some of them addressed, but there was the usual turmoil, and we were dead tired. Last night? Usual turmoil, PLUS Bible study at church, PLUS Reba having to work late and thus making us have to wait to eat until we were on the way home to eat and so we had to grab something at McDoodies, PLUS children with homework, PLUS Reba's mom has been driving her nuts lately with interference and just plain ol' crazy-acting. BUT, there are some of those invitations that had to go to her corporate office so the big cheeses Reba's dad works with will have it in their hand TODAY. Meaning, despite being dead tired, we still had to address some envelopes last night.

Now then, the way I had conceived of this going was that we'd clear a spot on the kitchen table, get a couple of nice smooth pens, and neatly address the envelopes so they looked, well, neatly addressed.

Before I knew it, last night Reba had gotten the envelopes, hopped onto the bed with the Fall/Winter JC Penney catalog, found herself a scratchy black ballpoint and had gone to work on them. I looked down at the ones she'd done--quickly scrawled in her "quickscrawl" handwriting that she used for shopping lists, names curving down the page to match the curvature of the catalog upon her knee, some crowding all the way to the end of the envelope, some with big ink blobs where she'd had to go back over a letter. I don't know if it was the constant pressure from her mom, or the pressure of knowing she had to get the important ones addressed IMMEDIATELY, or what exactly, but it was obvious she just wanted to get them done, no matter what.

I started stuffing the cards in, and as the envelopes piled up--"Do you think I can just mark a line through this and write the correct street name?"--I very nearly told her I would be glad to take them downstairs and do them for her.

However, in her state of mind, I know that would have been A Very Bad Idea.

So, for once, I let my idea go unsaid. And if you happen to be on the mailing list, I'd warn you against asking who addressed your envelope.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at February 16, 2006 09:48 AM