I’ve lamented my handwriting before. But it does tend to be a reappearing issue in decidedly aggravating ways. Like yesterday, i jotted down a note while i was talking to someone on the phone, because it was really important. Now, i don’t know what that note says. I can read the number, and yes, i could call that number and try to jog my memory by listening to how they answer the phone, but I’m always afraid i’ll call, and I’ll just get Hello? And there I’ll be: not knowing what to say, because i don’t know who I’m calling, or why. All because of a coalition between my Swiss cheese memory and poor penwomanship.
It would go something like this:
“Hello?” the mystery number answers.
“Um…who is this?”
“Who is THIS?” he counters.
“I asked you first.”
“Bob?” I say. “The guy in the commercials?”
Now sure, at that point, I could just opt for honesty, like I always do about nearly everything, but by then, I’ve embarrassed myself. And I wouldn’t know how pertinent that would be, because I wouldn’t know who this person was supposed to be to me–yet.
ADDENDUM (added later)
Sherlock that I am, i looked at my daybook again, and there, on the other side of the pen, was the clue. “Julie’s Mechanic”–now, granted, it took me a moment to decipher the handwriting for THAT, too. But it reminded me what that number was. And then I could make out the text above the number as Chet’s Automotive. –and the the word below, which was Broadway. The street it was on. Problem solved. But it will happen again, because no matter how many times i try to improve my handwriting, those muscles have just atrophied with the advent of the much faster and more legible keyboard.