A Living Magazine - Day 108 - Let Me Be Short

I went out at about my normal time in the morning for the walk to the Plymouth library...

I stopped at Burger King on the way, getting online for a couple of hours and composed the beginnings of one of my most clearly explained essays in weeks. I was quite encouraged by what was developing.

I left and continued on the library...

I thought Mr. Sixsmith might appreciate this.

I continued writing and tweaking what was turning out to be quite a well-crafted piece of work. When it was nearly done, I decided to move the text below a few pictures. So, I cut it out of the online document, ready to paste it under the image in question. I saw that I'd wanted a hyperlink in the caption of that photo, went to google and copied the url--and then realized I'd just dumped my important text on the computer's clipboard.

Well, that would be okay, since I could go back to the web page and do an undo to bring the text back. But right before I was able to click the undo button, Blogger autosaved the blank space. Therefore, with that space empty now, and the clipboard cleared of the text I'd spent some six hours on, I realized I was screwed, and had wasted a day writing for nothing. 

I could actually feel myself turn red. I must have been a sight to to see; red as a stop light, smiling to keep from going completely insane with rage. It was my fault. I should have been more careful. Blogger had done that to me once before. I should have known better than to take the risk of suspending the text in cyberspace. I was devastated, and that word (spelled incorrectly--as I didn't discover until the next morning, for Pete sake!) ended up being the title of the now, much-shortened post for that day.

The lost essay was meant to fill in for another day which had been spent trying to catch up on the blog. I couldn't seem to get ahead. But I didn't feel hopeless or worried, only extremely frustrated about my own sloppiness. 

I put the laptop to sleep for an hour and just paced around the parking lot outside the library, letting the negative energy burn off. I felt like I was going through the stages of grief, until I finally passed into "Acceptance."

I was then able to go back in, finish and publish the post, without throwing myself in front of a bus (that was an attempt at humor). I walked back to Allyson's and found that I was feeling much better by the time I was passing by the Cub grocery store. I needed cash for the next day, so I decided to console myself with a donut. I grabbed a yummy frosted donut and walked up to the self-service check out. I messed up and accidentally scanned my rewards card instead of my PayPal debit card. 

The machine, turned on it little red assistance light. In no time, the attendant in charge blew over like a cool breeze and, at lightening speed, flashed his placard, then entered some strange illuminati code, that reset things back to point where I only had to press "Yes" to complete my transaction: $20.88.

As I walked away stuffing the donut into my mouth, I remember hearing the irritating voice of the register's computer, saying, "Don't forget to take your change!" over. I didn't give it a second thought, since I'd used a card, there wouldn't be any change. I tossed the receipt in the trash can as I walked out into the night.

If this were a film, the camera would then slowly move back and point into the large plate glass windows. With CGI quality graphics, it would then pass through the glass into the checkout area, directly up to the front of self-serve Lane Number 8.

There, below the flashing red screen and golden exclamation point, would be a lonely $20.00 bill, hanging 3/4 of the way out of the machine, bobbing slightly in the breeze created by passing customers. And, just before the last frame of the scene, a hand that didn't belong to me would appear in the shot, grasp the bill...and pull!

Route 9 in Plymouth at night after my donut purchase.

There was always a new day ahead of me, and nothing could stop it from coming and replacing the old one. For all I knew when I went to bed, it was only my missing essay that had dampened the day. I had no idea yet about the title misspelling and was even more ignorant about my twenty dollars left behind.