You've seen this in a movie, or a cartoon. The main character keeps shoving things into the closet so as to get them out of sight. The shoving act begins to look more like a strain to close the ominously reluctant closet door, until one final opening and- BURST! The contents spill in a giant heave, buoyed by the pressure created inside.
I think I saw it first in a Marx Brother’s movie, A Night at the Opera.
The contents look rather happy in this still photo. That’s because they are the Marx Brothers, always looking for contact. But I digress.
Just back from a much needed fortifying break, visiting family and dear friends in Israel, and not being in contact with my virtual life. This means that in another corner of this computer, call it the closet, is an Inbox that has not been opened in a month.
The last time I did this disconnect it was only for ten days, and almost five hundred messages poured in as soon as I opened that door. Actually, they rumbled in, making Ms. Computer hiss and shake with excitement for a full five minutes before it declared all messages had been received. It was three days of wading in and weeding out before I had sorted them and was in a position to answer any.
So now I’m afraid to click on that door.
You see, even if it is not obvious, I am a neat person. I can’t feel rested until things are in place.
Then something even more terrifying occurs to me. What if, instead of five hundred times three (gone for a month this time, simple arithmetic) which is a (gulp) one thousand and five hundred messages to sort, what if, just possibly…
There aren’t very many, or any?
Neatness has its limits. A house is only a showcase if no one really lives in it. A super neat closet is also one that isn’t used much.
I take a deep breath…
Phew. Fourteen hundred and twenty seven. That’s one thousand four hundred and twenty seven we-want-your attention notes, even if ninety percent are of the general not-really-you variety. Happy now.
I’ll see you again when –