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And For My Next Trick...
Swimming & Other Necessities
Crazy or Careful?
Memory Lane: Soup Burg R.I.P.
Not So Much Dog Eat Dog
Looks
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Cast Away
The Savage Mythology of Urban Parents
Summer School
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The Fruitcakes of Summer
August is such a delicate month in New York City. On the one hand, absolutely nothing gets done, which means that if one is waiting for something to happen (professionally speaking), one will become frustrated and depressed at having to continue to wait for several weeks. This is complicated by the fact that this is the traditional month for psychiatrists, psychologists, psychiatric social workers, therapists and the like to go on vacation. This is surely why most of the city clears out.
In August I often glance around at fellow pedestrians and wonder how many people are silently giving thanks that their meds are finally working, or are clutching cards with emergency contact numbers to call should their dismal moods mutate into crises.
And then there are creative responses to the malaise of these dog days.
On Friday (early in the month for August Syndrome to hit so hard), the mail yielded a remarkable artifact: an envelope addressed to someone called "Elsie" at my address and the name on the return address was my own. Well, that's not true. Apparently the mail was being sent from my "conscience." (But I knew better. My conscience left for vacation on the 31st of July and is incommunicado. I'm supposed to take messages for it until September 2nd).
My conscience, as far as I know, also doesn't live in the taxi that bears medallion number 1P31.
Apparently, some wrapping from a magazine was found by an enterprising woman in the back seat of a cab and she took it upon herself to return it to me with a long scolding letter (with the magazine wrapping enclosed) about how I don't deserve a second chance at not littering but "the Universe, through me has seen fit to give you a do-over."
This is good news because so few people have this kind of "in" with the Universe. I bet she never ever gets stuck on the subway or misses a plane because she was stuck in traffic. She probably has never needed root canal either. I wonder if I can get into her good graces and scam some of this benevolence.
Anyway, I contemplated this business with some confusion because I really don't litter and am much more likely to carry old papers around in one of my bags for 6-8 months before I'm forced to purge everything. Still, I did have two particularly complicated taxi rides with Felix and the Terrier a couple of weeks ago and it was possible that Felix had pulled the junk out of my bag. I was willing to leave a message for my conscience to take the blame next month... except someone else in my household confessed to the litter.
So, now I am contemplating this lunatic letter writer. I don't feel guilty (and won't even in September), since I had nothing to do with the offense. But what about her?
She did sign her letter, so I know her name and it only took a minute of casual searching to find out that her conscience should be a little wrinkled. Her place of business was revealed by her Corporate Challenge running time. That she isn't a lawyer at her place of business was easily confirmed as well, and since she clearly sends her angry missives using her office's mailroom, one wonders if she feels bad about filching postage (and paper and supplies- though maybe she feels she is sticking it to the Man, with the Universe's approval of course). Other little details emerged, about her family, about her position on the war in Iraq (pro, it seems), and she seems to have signed every online petition she can get her little fingers on.
Someone else receiving this letter, which is written with all the obnoxious self-righteousness of someone who has too much time and too much energy, might be freaked out, since it seems so personal, but I know it is just the City, just the summer, just madness.
Perhaps the litter with my name on it performed a service- let her exorcise her demons on the woman she calls "Elsie" (whoever she is) than someone standing near her, sipping coffee on a subway platform.
posted by Elise at 8:22 AM
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said...
Hello! ;)
oh... what unhinged comments!
what do you suppose about it?
2/03/2007 9:36 AM
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