: schrödinger’s email :

One recent morning I laid in bed, half awake and half asleep, nary a thought in my head. All I knew was, I was warm and comfy and safe. Barely conscious, too. The sun danced on the wall. A breeze fluttered the curtains. It was mesmerizing. The outside world didn’t even exist. 

Until the shrill whistle of an email notification brought it crashing into the room like the Kool-Aid Man. 

Those first moments of full awareness are traumatic these days. Who wants to wake up in a world as harsh as this one? I don’t. But knowledge floods in anyway and I scramble for a happy thought — any glimmer of hope or possibility will do. The simple fact it isn’t winter did the trick that particular morning.

Yet, the email notification nagged at me. Who was this intruder and what did they want? Are they bearing good news or bad? I tried to guess their identity and shazam! I remembered sending off a number of query letters to publishers and literary agents in the last couple weeks. Could it be one of them, offering a fat publishing contract and a ticket to the bestseller list. Hell, yes! That’s who’s emailing me. Powerful, well-connected people with lucrative offers. I’m sure of it. 

And you know what? As long as I didn’t check my phone, that’s precisely who emailed. Just like with Schrödinger’s cat, reality can be both simultaneously — dead and alive — until I opened the box to see for myself. Right? Right. So I didn’t look. I just went about the morning, happily believing a life-changing publishing deal was waiting patiently in my inbox. 

Besides, hadn’t my horoscope assured me, and I quote: ‘This week, you’ll be reminded that your mind is exciting, that your life is special.’ It had. So who was I to argue with what’s written in the stars? A book deal was clearly my destiny. It was a heady few hours.

By lunchtime, however, curiosity prevailed and I checked my inbox. The email was from the Red Cross, they wanted a platelet donation. Well, what do you know, the email was life-changing. For someone in greater need than I. And I can actually do something to help :o)

copyright © 2020 the whirly girl

4 thoughts on “: schrödinger’s email :

  1. You are a blood donor…that is amazing! I have always thought people who shared their life fluid like this were heroes.
    My notifications on my phone are a “knock on a door” sound. That way I can ignore it like it is the Jehovah Witness coming to save my soul. I don’t even have to hide behind the curtains.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. And I think the people who need it are the heroes.
      The whistle is only for emails; text message notifications are the Minions laughing. I ♥️ hearing those dudes giggle — it sounds so happy! I’m desperate for happy.

      Liked by 1 person

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