I suppose I should be contrite, apologetic, or otherwise civil, but there is something inside my brain that refuses to let me do that, at least not today.

Not after getting yet another handful of emails intended for someone else, someone with a similar name (but spelled differently) but with a very different career. Just the fact that she actually HAS a career sets us worlds apart.

But I digress.

When I opened my email this morning, I discovered several emails from someone I do not know, sending me photographs of the interior of an apartment building. Evidently PEOPLE live there! People who don’t always get their dishes done right away. People who may leave garbage in the hall because the dumpster is… not right outside their door and they can’t leave the apartment for long because… whatever… kids, injury, a riveting episode of Smoochie the Wonder Dog…

So, this other Karen (who does NOT spell her first name that way, but don’t blame me, I’m not her mother and I would NEVER spell a common name so stupidly as her parents did, but I digress), this other “Karen” is in real estate, so I get photographs of houses for sale (some of them she sent to my email address instead of her own… no, not kidding. I would not buy a used pencil from this person, much less a house).

The latest were the result of a visit by the pest control people to an apartment building on the other coast of the continent where I live.

I decided to have some fun, so I replied to the photographs with comments that make me sound like some kind of socially deranged dingbat. “Some people say good help is hard to find. I say good help is hard to bury in the back yard.” Should have edited it to say, “good help is even harder to bury in the back yard.” Ah, my world in hindsight.

Anyway, I figured I’d post this here, because a) answering those emails was a rather pleasant writing exercise, and b) there is a link to this blog on my outgoing emails and I figured this might serve as an explanation.

Or my defense. Whatever.


About Ms. Karen

This is what happens when you live with a writer: there are pens everywhere, except by the phone; many notebooks with strange scribblings that make no sense but must never be thrown away; and long rambling monologues about what certain characters would, or would not do in a given situation. It's almost as difficult as living with an artist. Man, THOSE people are bizarre...
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3 Responses to Surprise!

  1. PattiKen says:

    I love this. Good for you for having some fun with it. Did anyone ever respond?

    The word is full of strange people. A car dealer once sent me into the back let to look at a car just in from a lease. “Great deal,” he said. It looked like a family of four had been living in it for months without ever taking the garbage out.

    What do you think? Was I going to buy it, given what a good deal it was? Not on your life. I didn’t like the color. 😉


  2. lissa says:

    sounds like fun and I would probably like to know how they would respond to your emails.

    This one woman sent me a photo of herself, I presume it was her as the return address is a female, but I have no clue who she is and there was no words, only that photo. I just wondering now if there are people sending emails all over world to the wrong address and not know it.

    have a lovely day.


  3. Selma says:

    You are naughty. I only say that because I would have done the same thing. Thank goodness we don’t live near one another – we would cause mayhem 😆


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