Over the summer, my commercial e-mail account was shuffled back and forth between webmail and client application one too many times. None of the messages remembered where they were supposed to show up and in what order, so the entire archive evaporated. Like the Classics Department joke that Ellie tells about the Greek philosopher who was all “I think, therefore I am,” until one day, when someone asked him if he wanted coffee or something. He said, “I think not,” and vanished into thin air.
It was my own fault, but I decided that if I couldn’t remember what I was missing, than I wouldn’t miss is that much. The only e-mail that came to mind was the confirmation I received after I registered for Outward Bound. And the only reason that one stuck out in my mind is that I printed at least two copies and memorized the first three lines and sometimes repeat them to a nursury rhyme tune when I try to coax myself out of bed at the beginning of a particularly long day: “Congratulations! You are about to embark on…”
There are times during every semester when I hold my breath every time I open my school e-mail. [I really hope the server doesn’t hear this and jinx me, but] sometimes, I wouldn’t even freak out too much if that account evaporated somewhere into the world wide web, too! It wouldn’t be my fault that I haven’t read and responded to every one of the six e-mails one of my professor sends every week. I wouldn’t feel guilty about filtering through messages from clubs I’m not actually a part of, beyond the contact list. I wouldn’t have to assemble the puzzle of appointments with people who want all of my waking hours for themselves!
I’m thinking about setting an auto-response message: “I think not.”
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