Sorry, karma, you were wrongly accused. The true culprit has been identified and his name is Bryan. I found my keys — the set I use, not the spare — in the pocket of one of Bryan’s coats, hanging in the hall closet. Now, I may wear his sweatshirts, and his T-shirts, and even sometimes his boxers (hey, they’re comfy to sleep in), but I never wear his coats.
The eureka!s and aha!s didn’t stop there, though. Tonight, frustrated as I was that KATV delayed airing the season premiere of LOST to instead air SEC basketball (and Auburn, no less, geesh!), I decided to go through a box labeled “Steph’s Writing” that we got out of the attic in TN this weekend. I knew I had lots of notes and poems and so forth in the box, but, honestly, I didn’t remember half of what was hiding in there. There’s poems and stories and essays (oh my!) and loads of other wildly entertaining and quite embarrassing pieces of my original work. There’s also scraps of paper with hair-brained ideas, newspaper clippings and 3.5 diskettes with no-telling-what on them.
Perhaps, though, the most surprising of the forgotten forget-me-nots is a hand-written note from one of my ninth-grade best friends, Wurmzer (or Wurm, a.k.a., Jayme; I was “Smurf” — that’s a whole other story), in which she wrote a poem just for me …
I also still have a “Letter to a Young Friend,” written by Wurm’s own hand, and a poem on friendship handwritten by Carri-Kay (a.k.a., Karen, to whom I was known as “Stefi-Bee” … again, a story in itself), another of my high school best friends, especially for me …
Apparently, we fought on occasion. Hmm, I wonder if they even remember these. Of course, most people do seem to have better memories than me. (I mean, hello, see my last post!).
But, seriously folks, who knew I was so inspiring?!?!