Gone Fishing

Extend this you...

Extend this you…

One day, a couple of years ago, I’m sitting at the computer when an e-mail comes in:

Gone fishing.

H.

Honestly, I really didn’t think too much of it at the time. I knew quite a few people whose name began with the letter and I had what I considered more important things on my plate. Something must have niggled at my subconscious though, because I didn’t delete the e-mail. It sat in my inbox for a long time. I get over 200 e-mails a day so I am constantly cleaning my inbox out. I’m pretty cutthroat about it too, if I don’t need it: delete> trash> delete. If I need it, it goes to a file. This one; this one I wavered on.

It sat there a day.

It sat there a week.

A month in and I was the one doing the sitting, staring at that e-mail; wracking my brain trying to figure out what it meant. I had already become a bit obsessive about it. I couldn’t bring myself to delete it… I would check and uncheck the box beside it and my cursor would hover over the delete button for what seemed like hours… then I would back off. I had asked all of my H friends if they had sent it to me and was told no. The only answer left was it was another “wrong e-mail/wrong number” deal. That didn’t answer the hesitancy over deletion though. So, as I’m sitting there contemplating life, the universe and the insanity of quarks in my inbox, another message comes in:

Fishing trip extended.

H.

My eyes bulged out and my head thumped against the table. I felt this horrible itch of foreboding wiggle down the back of my neck. No amount of scratching was going to make it go away either. I had to at least try though and just as I reached my hand back I had one of those glaring lightbulb moments when I realized I was screwed. Well and truly. Screwed. On that realization, the lightbulb shattered and I swear I heard male giggling ping-pong thru the house. I looked around but knew I was alone. And already questioning my sanity.

The first e-mail had already gotten to me enough to keep me awake at night. Not being able to figure the puzzle out wouldn’t let my brain shut down which means sleep is a lost cause.

The second, my being too slow on the uptake I guess. I wasn’t playing the game right so here is my reward.

Insomnia sucks. No one likes to lose sleep. Sleep is a valuable commodity in a society where every minute counts. True Insomnia is a bitch that will have you on your knees beggin’ for someone to put you out of your misery. I beg on a daily basis… loudly, vehemently, with tears streaming down my face even. I threaten… I’m thinking it is probably negating the begging and we’re at a stalemate right now. What I know is nothing works. Abso-friggin-lutely nothing.

Sick basterds and their twisted sense of humor. Cryptic damn e-mails. Extended trip my ass… 4 friggin hours this week! Three years now? WTF?!

And you think I should look into my anger issues…

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One thought on “Gone Fishing

  1. Pingback: To Whom #4 | Pissed Off In Paradise

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