10 days gone

How does this happen?

Didn't I post yesterday?

How do ten days go by but it feels like not a one?

I think it might have something to do with this:

Days and days evaporated from my life, all spent dutifully penning addresses and return addresses, stuffing envelops, and cringing when my stamps don't quite fit. And wouldn't you know it that all of the envelops that I really cared about (is that a contradiction in terms or what?) I screwed up (e.g. a one M.D'A) -- a misspelling here, a missing directional there. I had ordered a lovely embosser for the return addresses, but it seemed cursed. The top line routinely failed to imprint and it just didn't look right, so I ended up writing all of the return addresses. And the penmanship? Well...let's just say that there was little consistency. I just tried to channel the recipient (those whom I knew) and act accordingly. And in a truly uncharacteristic move, I added these:

I can't really believe that I--the least romantic person I know--ordered these. I can't believe that I'm going to circulate myself through the US Postal Service in a full-on make out (or more like a sweet little peck, but you know what I mean). It's almost scandalous. I wonder if my Grandfather will be horrified?

I can actually tell you why I did it. It's because last fall when I was getting to know my new friend Lori, she mentioned that we were really different in our relationships. I asked what she meant: "Well, I'm a bit of a romantic," she confessed. The implication was clear: I was a wet rag, a prude, a romance-killer. Ever since, I've been hoping to prove her wrong. This my friends, this kissing-crazed stamp, this is my proof.

But I'm not buying it...