I am amazed at my own stupidity. Really. Sometimes I can’t even believe I managed to get myself dressed in the morning.
I made a mistake or I misunderstood something pretty major. It doesn’t affect anyone else, but I feel like the village idiot. How I could have been soooooo wrong is beyond me. I’ve thought it over (and over and over) and the best thing I can come up with is that I read what I wanted to read.
Plain and simple.
Well, except I showed the evidence to two other people, Beloved being one of them. When I confessed to him that I’d made a mistake, he was confused too. The problem is I can’t find the proof. The email has disappeared into cyberspace so I’m left with a vague recollection of facts and zero grounds to base them on.
”Why don’t you contact that folks who sent the original email?”
I know you’re thinking that. I know it. But somehow I think you’ve missed my point. If I contact these fine folks, these same folks who just might want me to do a little free-lance work for them, they’ll know. They’ll shake their heads in that sad, empathic sort of way and say, “Oh…We had no idea you were the village idiot…”
So, I sit here in my idiocy, wondering. It isn’t as if I’ve never been here before. I mean, who can forget when I was in full idiot girl mode and couldn’t figure out how to blow up my exercise ball? Remember the time I walked 2 miles in the rain just for the exercise? And let’s not forget the idiot girl mouth running amok by saying things like, “Nose tampon” and “Geez someone smells like pot”.
I’m on familiar ground only this time I’m disappointed and an idiot.