Sunday, June 25, 2006


On Friday night, I was busy doing just about everything I could think of other then what I was supposed to be doing: Writing Thank You notes to people I didn't thank in person for birthday gifts. I just don't like writing Thank You notes, but it isn't for the reasons you might think. I don't like writing Thank Yous because my handwriting is ridiculously bad.

When I was a kid in elementary school, and got graded on that sort of thing my worst grades were always in Handwriting. Since then, my handwriting has steadily declined, especially as the need to handwrite things got more and more rare. Nowadays, I'm lucky if I can read my own writing, let alone anyone else. And so I feel embarrassed and guilty to be sending an illegible note to someone who was nice enough to send me a gift.

To make matters worse, my writing is very compact. That means a Thank You card that Linzy can fill with a single short paragraph requires approximately my life story, when I'm the one writing it.

Friday night was my self-imposed deadline for the Thank Yous, as that would mean they would get mailed out a week after my birthday. In typical procrastinating fashion, I was surfing the web, looking through all the different notecards we had on hand (to find the 'right' ones), making up reasons to go see what Linzy was up to. I even spent some time doing work e-mails. Obviously, anything I could find to avoid having to work on writing the notes.

When I finally couldn't put it off any longer, I concluded that I was being ridiculous about the whole issue. Not because my handwriting was better then I recalled. It wasn't. But because it probably doesn't matter all that much.

I did my best to keep the notes legible, and I like to think that someone like my Grandma will just appreciate getting a note, even if it is a bit of chore to decipher what I've written. At least I hope that is the case.

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