Got home yesterday. Got the mail. Started going through it.<\/p>\n
There was one small envelope, and it was addressed to me in familiar handwriting. It’s funny: I have friends that I have met in the last 10 years – and I would not know their handwriting by sight, due to the lack of snail mail. But the friends from before that? I know it all. Kate. I would know her handwriting in a dark alley. Pat. His handwriting is as known to me as the freckles on my face.<\/p>\n
So there was an envelope with my friend Betsy’s handwriting on it. Obviously.<\/p>\n
Yet. The name in the return address on the envelope was “Nancy D.” What the hell?<\/p>\n
There are multiple levels of confusion here (possible). The first one is that my friend Beth’s maiden name starts with “D”, and her mother’s name is Nancy. So I thought: “Beth’s mother wrote to me?” Considering the last couple of months, it wouldn’t be out of the question. I have been hearing from a lot of people. But … second level of confusion … the return address was in Virginia. Why would Beth’s mother, who lives in Rhode Island, be writing to me from Virginia? Yes. Betsy lives in Virginia, but … whatever … sometimes I’m not so bright … and i got all confused.<\/p>\n
Maybe it’s NOT Betsy’s handwriting. Maybe it just LOOKS like her writing.<\/p>\n
My confusion deepened when I opened the envelope. There was no letter. Just a small blue piece of paper and on it was written:<\/p>\n
It’s a bit gratuitous to quote passages from Shakespeare on a daily basis.
\n— The Clue of the Dancing Puppet<\/p><\/blockquote>\nWhat. The. Hell.<\/p>\n
Now here is where I went a little bit insane for about 3.2 seconds. It had been a long day and I was very depleted at that point. It was 8 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten in 5 hours. So factor that in.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, I knew it WASN’T Betsy at all … it was some person who reads my blog, who hates me (I know you’re out there!) – and they somehow found out my address and sent me that bitchy statement about Shakespeare … like: stop quoting Shakespeare, you snob … and for 3.2 seconds I got very afraid. How did they get my address? What the hell? Do I quote Shakespeare all that much? Oh. Yeah. I guess I do. Someone is so angry about it that they would take the time to write up a note like this and send it to me? Should I call the police?<\/p>\n
But then there was the strange “clue” of “The Clue of the Dancing Puppet” which, after the 3.2 second freakout, I promptly Googled.<\/p>\n
(Ahem<\/a>.)<\/p>\n
And then the return address became clear. Nancy D. Of course.<\/p>\n
Betsy lives in Virginia, found a quote in an old Nancy Drew book, thought of me, put it on a little blue card, and popped it in the mail – putting “Nancy D” as the sender in the return address slot … and suddenly, as all of that finally became clear (it took long enough), I started laughing hysterically, all alone in my apartment.<\/p>\n
After my 3.2 seconds of freakout where the small blue card suddenly seemed unbeLIEVably hostile, sent to me by an unknown “Nancy D” who, for whatever reason, had a problem with me quoting Shakespeare … it became the best moment of the day.<\/p>\n
Put it up on the bulletin board.<\/p>\n
I have good good friends. I am very lucky.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Got home yesterday. Got the mail. Started going through it. There was one small envelope, and it was addressed to me in familiar handwriting. It’s funny: I have friends that I have met in the last 10 years – and … Continue reading