Thursday, January 28, 2016

Another Bone-Headed Mistake

Dear Friend Who Came to My Party and Gave Me the Lovely Pen,

Thank you. It's a beautiful pen, the sort I feel every writer should have, and that I didn't until you gave it to me. I'm using it at my desk now to write notes on my current manuscript--due Friday, that's tomorrow--and it's a fabulous change from the crummy derelict pens that always seemed to end up abandoned on my desk. (The last one I was using wrote in orange ink. Where did that come from? 1983?)

I really love the pen, and I love you for giving it to me, and I wrote you a note expressing my emotions. And then I mailed it to the wrong person.

I'm sorry. That was a really great party, and I had such a good time with everyone, and I wasn't expecting any gifts or cards and I got things mixed up. I didn't realize I had--not until yesterday, when a friend who fortunately has a finely-honed sense of humor called and said, "Kim, I got your lovely note thanking me for the pen. Thing is, I didn't give you a pen."

I was thinking about this much of last night--I'm taking a whopping dose of prednisone, thanks to a virus that decided to activate my asthma, and while it's a great drug for keeping me breathing it also keeps me wide-awake at weird hours, mulling guest lists--and the thing is, I can't identify you with any certainty. I can make some guesses--but I did that once already, and look where it got me.

So I'm going to confess my sins right here, on this blog, and hope that you read it. Please know that I'm not ungrateful and not trying to be impolite. I've dropped the ball, but I really do love the pen.