One of my desks sits in front of our big living room window where I have a view of a ginormous blue spruce tree that hubby planted almost 20 years ago. The tree is beautiful and a home to birds of many kinds and a haven for bunnies. Doves love it there.
The tree provides much-needed shade from the hot summer sun, and a wind break from chill winter winds.
But I haven’t been watching the action in the tree lately because my attention was diverted by work crews in the process of relocating electrical and other types of wires along with really really tall poles from the west side of the street to our side.
Our driveway has been partially blocked for several days and it’s been hard to get out to run errands or, even more important, to go to work. Plus, there is some kind of chemical smell on the poles that’s stinking up the neighborhood.
Maybe that’s what’s wrong with my mind—I’ve been subjected to some kind of toxicity that scrambled my brain cells. How else can I explain what’s happened lately?
See, I belong to our local group of Red Hat ladies. They’re such a fun bunch with never a dull moment during our monthly luncheons. I volunteered to be the one who sends out birthday cards and I love doing it. I get to make up unique cards for each woman on her special day, and I look forward to that. I try to be careful not to miss a single birthday.
One day I was perusing the list when I came across the next recipient. Thing is, I thought this lady had passed away so I put the list away and thought nothing more about it. That is until I was having breakfast one Sunday after church and that’s when I saw her—alive and enjoying her eggs and toast.
I had to tell the family around the table what I’d done. Some friends were with us, and I’m afraid my stature went down a few notches as soon as I told them. “What’ll I do now?” I asked. “I’m sure her birthday has passed by and I was supposed to send her a homemade card. She’s not dead, she’s sitting right over there!” I was mortified.
After breakfast I headed home and looked at the list again. Aha! I still had time to send the card after all, and that made me feel much better. I sat down at the computer, made my fellow Red-Hatter a special card, stuck a stamp on it and mailed it the next day.
A couple of days ago while our little group was gathered for our monthly luncheon, I mentioned mailing the birthday card and that’s when one of the ladies popped up her head and gave me an odd look. “You know she’s passed, don’t you? It’s been a while ago,” she said.
I felt strange and bit out of it as I shook my head. “You mean she really is gone? Then who did I send a birthday card to?”
I was afraid and embarrassed to look around the table that had suddenly gone quiet. “Don’t feel bad,” said the sweet lady to my left. “You know, they say we all have a double. Maybe you saw her double that day.” She patted my arm, conversations resumed and I sat there feeling like an utter idiot.
I think I will blame that whole mess-up on those toxic power poles. Sounds better than the alternative to me.
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