It was jotted in my own manic scrawl, in pencil, on the corner of a scrap of paper and left on my desk. It sat there with gravity, weight. It Meant Something.
And it stayed there on my desktop for several weeks, patient and waiting, because it, yes, Still Undoubtedly Meant Something.
It was an Idea. A Spark to be fanned into a blazingly hilarious blog post, destined to make laughter pierce the air!... turn readers' days instantly better!... with readers' families and coworkers catching the mirth through happy bloggy osmosis!...
Yes, there would be dogs smiling... babies giggling... and inevitably it would bring peace to people across the world except probably not Egypt because let's be realistic: a crappy note on a piece of paper can only do so much.
And that note, that note intended for boundless humor read:
"The Cellars Progressive Wine Sale"
...
...
Yeah: I know. I have no idea where I was planning to go with that either. And it is so. not. funny.
The babies, they weep. The dogs, they smile not.
Egypt is still Egypt.
I might-- and I can only guess here-- have been thinking of questioning whether Progressive Wine was branded politically, or whether it was a simple suggestion that one should drink many sequential bottles at once in increasing alcoholic content percentages.
One would think, from my lack of memory, that I had tested that out.
But somehow the whole joke of Progressive Wine Differing from Libertarian and Conservative wine in, say, belief in how much involvement the winemaker should have in the fermentation process...
Well, it doesn't really live up to the whole "wishing I could buy the world a Coke/glass of Progressive Wine/beverage of choice and live in perfect har-mo-neee" thang.
And then there's that "carpool" note over there. Clearly that was written at another time, since it's in ink. But I don't carpool. I can't recall having an event to go to that required a carpool.
Or maybe the paper is just one grand statement on designated driving.
Yes, your guess is as good as mine, folks. All I can say is, thank goodness I'm not Guy Pearce's character from Memento.
There'd be no telling what I'd find tattooed on myself.
Question for the day: Do you ever write yourself notes and then get amnesia?
And by the way-- who are you people?
11 comments:
Maybe it was a play on "cellars" and "sale"? LOL. Whatever it was, I'm quite happy to know that I'm not the only one that can find esoteric stuff written on a slip of paper in my own handwriting and not know what the heck I was talking about. :-D
I generally try to leave long-winded notes. The kind that take longer to write than they do to think through, so, if anything, I get halfway through those notes and then just stop.
Anyways, that note may not have sparked the hilarious blog post that you originally intended, but it DID still give you something pretty funny to write about...
Could it have been about a progressive sale (like a progressive dinner) held by multiple wine cellars? Do you even have wine cellars in PA (I lived in California wine country for 30 years...it is the kind of thing they might do.)
Jen- That's as good a suggestion as any. I do not remember and I don't know where I saw the ad for the wine sale. Maybe it was a play on words for "wine/whine."
Jake- Usually I write notes to myself in a draft Blogger post instead of just something on a slip of paper. But it appears I'd been pressed for time and inspiration couldn't be held up. Glad you enjoyed the post, though!
Violet- We do have wine cellars in PA, the wine tends more toward the sweet than the dry, but there are some nice wines. But I didn't know about progressive dinners, so I don't think that's where I was going.
You know, I gotta love that readers are trying to help prompt my memory.
I can NEVER read the notes I scribble for myself for future blog posts!
Makes sense to Willy - scary.
19-4 Willy
Well, there are some positives here. You can recognise the handwriting as your own, you at least know the note was probably mean to inspire a blog post, and you very successfully worked it into a blog post regardless of your original intent.
I find notes in my pockets that I've writen to myself and some days I stare at the handwriting and question whether it's really my own!
I can't tell you how many telephone numbers I have written on how many scraps of paper where I haven't the foggiest of ideas as to who I would reach if I ever bothered to dial the number. Presumably they are people who I once intended to call, but I can't be sure. I'm afraid to call any of them in case I owe them money, whoever they are.
Meleah- It's like a blogging curse.
Willy- I'm scared, too. :)
Melanie- Oh, dear-- maybe you have an evil twin? Or a second personality? :)
I DO have issues reading my own handwriting many times, but I usually recognize the mess as my own.
Joel- I guess you're saving yourself grief in the long run. Or ticking off half your friends. Six of one...
Oh Jenn, I can SO relate... :-P
Oh, taking notes! That is a much better idea than just staring at a blank screen and waiting for words to come.
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