I did something foolish the other day. In a fruitless attempt at being more productive, I tried doing two things at once. I can barely task, let alone multi-task, so that was my first mistake.
It began innocently enough. I was on the phone with my aunt and decided to sneak in a little email time. What’s the harm, I thought. She can’t see what I’m doing. So I clicked on the first email. It was from my daughter asking if I had a nice nap. She knew I hadn’t slept the night before and that I was going to try to close my eyes that afternoon.
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled to my aunt as I hit reply and typed, “No nap because of That F***ing Dog!” Now, what you have to know here is that the dog next door is the sweetest animal in the world, but has a bad habit of barking underneath my window well into the wee hours of the morning. Ergo, its nickname, “That F***ing Dog”.
Next, I clicked on my new publicist’s email. My eyes grew wide as I read the message. “Uh-huh,” I said into the phone as I re-read the email, scarcely believing what I had done.
Apparently, I hadn’t replied to my daughter, but instead had sent my profanity-laced diatribe against a small canine to the woman who had just agreed to market my book. Not the best way to begin a professional relationship.
But this techno mishap can’t compare to the one I pulled a few years before. My daughter’s best friend is named Leigh. Her mom is a friend of mine as well. One day, Leigh’s mom called and asked if I could have Allie call Leigh because their dog, Caileigh, had been diagnosed with cancer and the vet said she only had a couple of days left to live. The girls were both in college at the time, and Leigh had raced home to say goodbye to her beloved pet.
It was early in the morning and I didn’t want to call Allie and wake her, so I sent an email instead. I went out with a friend, and a couple of hours later my phone rang. It was my daughter, crying hysterically. I could barely understand what she was saying and had to keep asking her to calm down. I deciphered bits and pieces and the conversation went something like this:
Allie: I’m (sob) coming home (sob) to see (wracking sob) Leigh!
Me: Really? That’s so nice of you, but honestly, I don’t think it’s necessary.
Allie: WHAT?!? But she’s (sob and a wail) my best friennnnnnnnnddddddd!!!!
Me: I understand, sweetie, and that’s so supportive of you, but I really think a phone call would suffice.
Well, you may have guessed by now that I had accidentally written that Leigh had cancer and only had two days to live, instead of typing Caileigh.
Is it any wonder that I am forbidden from programming the family DVR?