Leaving Me A Sticky

These are the kinds of games that some of the ladies with whom I work tend to want to play.  I suppose I’m more than willing to oblige, being that I play along, usually without hesitation, reservation, or even a second though.  This past Thursday morning, I came into the office, still as ridiculously early as I do.  The sticky note you see above happened to be stuck on my monitor.  If you look at the sticky note a little more closely, you’ll see that she initially wanted me to call her, but she changes her request so I text her instead. 

Indeed, this is one of the more interesting ways I have started my morning in quite some time.  Typically, at that hour, at 4:45am or close to it, there are no feelings in the office.  There’s no emotion there.  It’s not even 5am yet.  Oh, rest assured, I am awake, but there’s not much else going on.  I’m strolling in, find my way to my computer, log in, and moments later, I’m working.  I’m already writing and trying to get into that proverbial zone where my productivity is and will be at its highest point for the entire day.  After 7am, it’s all pretty much downhill from there anyway.  It just is. 

Oddly enough, I knew exactly who left me that sticky note.  She didn’t know that I knew, but I did.  The previous Wednesday I had actually stayed a few minutes longer than I normally do because I knew that she would be coming in and I had hoped that maybe we would be able to see each other and chat for a moment.  I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks anyway, so maybe we were overdue for a connection?

Needless to say, I sent her that text message that Thursday morning, as she had requested.  It was closer to 7:30am when I reached out to her.  She was dumbfounded and understandably so.  I’d even go so far as to say she was stunned.  She didn’t think that I’d know.  How could I have correctly guessed who had left me that sticky note, just from the handwriting alone?  Am I really THAT good? 

I told her that I knew it was her, yes, based solely on the handwriting.  For good measure, I told her:

I know your handwriting anywhere.

I was lying.  I’m good, but I’m not that good.  I’ll admit it.    

Some two hours later, I would come clean and tell her that.  I told her that I might have “fibbed” earlier in the morning.  I admitted to her that I knew that she was going to be in the office after hours the night before, that is, after I normally leave for the day, and that in using some measure of logic, I put two and two together and made a very educated guess that she was the one who left me that sticky note.  Most people wouldn’t care enough to do something like that for me.  For me?  To me?  I don’t know. 

At any rate, this just happened to be one of those rare instances where I just so happened to be right. 

Indeed, she is a hoot.  I’ve missed her since she left our office, but she and I still text each other, so really, it doesn’t feel like we’ve drifted too far apart. 

Our conversations go on, mostly through text message, and very rarely in-person.  They just don’t occur like they used to, in that I don’t see her all that often anymore.      

I like that amidst our physical distance, she remains as playful as ever.  Maybe that kind of thing makes me miss her that much more?

It’s amazing to see how something as seemingly insignificant and minuscule as a sticky note can lead to such an out-of-the-ordinary, but yet fulfilling, interaction with a dear friend.