Stay away if you’re dead (please)

I email my therapist, and then wait, endlessly refreshing gmail, for her to reply. I tell my friend, who tries to reassure me. ‘I think she’ll reply. Therapists are pretty reliable. It’s sort of part of their MO.’ ‘But it’s been three minutes,’ I point out. ‘Perhaps she’s dead. That’s so typical of her.’ My friend politely stops talking to me.

I decide to get dressed, and am gloriously happy to find a pair of shorts I bought in 1998. ‘These are probably so fashionable again,’ I think as I put them on. The people opposite me are moving out (I have decided to take no responsibility for this), and so I watch their removal men lift heavy things from upstairs bedrooms for a while. They smile at me, and I tell them, ‘I’m just waiting for an email.’

‘I hope my therapist hasn’t died,’ I tell my friend. She doesn’t reply. ‘Oh, and I hope you haven’t died also,’ I say to appease her. Still nothing.

I do some casual lunges to test the stretchiness of my retro shorts. Still no email. I notice that the movers can see me, and wave cheerily at them. ‘It’s very important to lunge,’ I tell them. ‘Also to bend your knees when lifting heavy objects.’ They are probably surprised that my neighbours are moving out, living opposite such a knowledgeable person.

I swallow a multivitamin, and brush my teeth. ‘Look how good I’m being,’ I tell my absent therapist. ‘A person as well-behaved as this really deserves an email. Unless you’re dead. I don’t want any creepy missives from beyond the grave.’

(I have a sneaking suspicion that my therapist would be a really effective and tenacious ghost. I start to send strong ‘stay away’ thoughts to her. I quickly modify these to ‘stay away if you are a ghost, otherwise reply please’ thoughts).

Still no email, so I pop outside to chat to the movers. ‘So, what you up to?’ I say in a friendly fashion. They stare at me. ‘Well, to be honest, I don’t really need to know. I just wanted a segue-way into complaining about my therapist.’ They continue to stare at me. ‘Do you think she’ll reply? I’m sure she’ll reply. Won’t she?’ The movers say nothing, so I pop back inside.

‘Why don’t you call her?’ my friend asks. ‘Um, I don’t want her to think I care,’ I explain rudely. ‘Gosh. I really couldn’t care less. She probably won’t reply.’ ‘Maybe’ my friend says dubiously. ‘You don’t think she’ll reply?’ I shout, panicked. ‘Are you serious? Oh my gosh, this is disastrous. She’s probably dead. This is a nightmare. I’m never emailing her ever again.’ ‘Well, obviously if she’s dead you won’t be able to,’ my friend points out. ‘SHE’S DEAD?’ I race out the door to ask the movers if I can go with them. If I move, it’ll be harder for her ghost to track me down. Though considering the difficulties she’s having with email, perhaps her haunting skills won’t be as impressive as I thought.

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1 Comment

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One response to “Stay away if you’re dead (please)

  1. Jay

    I’m glad that I’ve found your unfashionablylost.wordpress.com blog. Thank you for sharing your talent and useful information with us. You are a bright light!

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