I wrote myself a mental post-it note to remind myself to pick you up a thank-you card. Then I stuck it on a file going to the Reminder Department in my brain. As I was told later, the file and the post-it note got separated. The file went to The Lost Archives along with the word that was on the tip of my tongue an hour before. Neither one has been seen since. The post-it note, on the other hand, got stuck in a pile of new memos to be copied and posted at all Memorie stations.
If you ever wondered where all my dumb-blonde genes went, I can now tell you. They pass themselves off as dust-bunnies and get jobs as secretaries in the copy room of my brain. One was on duty when the pile of memos went through. If I understand correctly, she was talking to her boyfriend, a white-blood cell, when she was suppose to be sorting and examining the memos. As a result, she ran up the phone bill, (Her boyfriend was working in my foot that day which is long distance.) and the post-it note was copied and distributed on the front of a memo. Needless to say (but I am going to anyway), her superior was not too happy with the phone bill.
Back to the post-it note. Throughout this time, (dust-bunnies are slow workers, and dumb-blonde dust bunnies are even slower) I was going about my business as normal. Thanks to this mix-up, I had no reason to remember that I had written a post-it note. Thus I was not concerned that I had not been given probes from the Short-Term division of Memorie. I was quite surprised at the onslaught of reminding I received the next day when every department, even Worry, Inc., was sending messages. I had an overpowering urge to buy thank-you cards.
The result is, the dumb-blonde dust-bunnie secretary and her boyfriend were both fired, I now have more thank-you cards than I will need for the rest of the year, and the overload of probing blew out some circuits in the dream department. I have been having nightmares about memos ever since. The file has still not been found; so, if I am late for something in the near future I can blame it on that. The dust-bunnies might find it before I need it, but I am not holding my breath.
Out of all this I have learned one thing: Never send yourself a mental post-it note.
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