The other day, while thumbing through my mail, I came across a letter from this travel agency that TLW (The Little Woman) sent a check to. I opened the envelope and the check she made out was stapled to a letter. The letter stated that due to their inability to read TLW’s handwriting, they could not process the application! I asked out loud why they didn’t take it to a pharmacy. I often do this at Christmas time when her brother Kevin writes a little note to us, or when TLW writes to me a little love note. (It gets somewhat embarrassing when I read the mushy part together with the pharmacist! But the pharmacist does have an endless supply of Kleenex!)
I carefully refolded the letter and returned it to the envelope and waited for TLW to return home.
“Hi! How was your day? XXX”
“Great, we got mail. Well, actually, you got mail.”
TLW opens it, and I paraphrase the letter’s contents and miraculously, Lucy Van Pelt, returns again!
“WHAT? What the heck are these people talking about?”
“They couldn’t read your handwriting.” (I try not to look happy, but concerned.)
“Why not, I don’t understand? I’m tired of working with people that are dummies!”
“Well, at least they got your name right!” I tried to say consolingly.
You must understand, first off, TLW is a southpaw, a lefthander. Second, when she writes in long hand, the words become taller and taller as she goes, and the letters become condensed and then exaggerated. Soon a ‘bottle of milk’ could read: ‘a battle of meek, or a boller of milt, or, if I’m lucky: a batter of malt.
Notes left on the table can read,
Jue,
Please fiux thl leaky fauot’
Luve, EIIln
The pharmacist has become pretty adept at reading and transcribing her notes, and I once had to pay him overtime. It seems TLW sent a letter to her brother Kevin, and he sent it to the same pharmacist!
Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.
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