“Hello. You have reached the desk of Meg, accounting specialist extraordinaire & keeper of the sanity. So sorry to have missed your call- if you run fast, you may be able to catch a glimpse of me in the parking lot, but I would suggest you don’t allow any valuable items or vital limbs to drift between my car & the exit.
As I have blown this Popsicle Stand for the next 12 days, I wish you luck on reaching anybody to assist you; but if you press 210, 407, or any other random combination of three numbers, you may luck out & reach a live person who may or may not know what they are talking about, before having your call transfered back to this message.
After the tone, please leave your name, your phone number, & your detailed plea for help, which I should be able to listen to within 3 to 6 weeks of my return, depending on 1) the size of the pile of crucial, yet uncompleted work to be done, 2) the number of errors made or missed that need to be corrected before the end of the month, or 3) the dubious supposition I will actually return to this loony bin after tasting freedom. Thank you for calling & have a lovely day.”
Well kids, I’m off to British Columbia tomorrow morning at the uncivilized hour 4:30 am (leaving the house, not taking off) & steadfastly avoiding the telephone to get my last minute preparation done. I don’t know what kind of internet access I’ll run across, but I will do my best to check in to see how you all are holding up in my absence. Ta-ta!
T said,
Tuesday, July 24, 2007 @ 6:05 pm
Finally made it over to visit you after some internet difficulties (which may or may not be over). I enjoyed your style – I was at the bottom before I knew it! Hope you enjoy your holiday – and I do sooooo get the feeling of not ever wanting to return to reality! I often tell my honey (we were also high school sweeties, by the way) that we should run away and leave it all behind – and sell hot dogs on the beach! When I think I could handle a more planned escape, I suggest we sell everything and buy an RV and live nowhere and everywhere, getting temporary work to tide us from place to place. He never will – what’s up with that?