Comedy of Errors

I was invited to get together and meet an artist I had never met after admiring her work. We threw out some possibilities of meeting and taking a walk. My phone normally stays turned off unless I am expecting a call, and I don't have long distance so I can't return your message by phone, I alerted her by email. We settled on a day and time. I've got a late afternoon errand to run, I don't know how long it will take but I'll call you when I get back, she wrote that morning.

When my husband got home I told him, "I can't leave the phone, it might ring." He offered to monitor the phone while I practiced my saxophone. I had already vacuumed upstairs and downstairs and even spent a few hours trimming saplings in my yard, all because I might have company. I can be a real worry wart about having a visitor but it felt good to do these things even though I was completely motivated by anxiety.

At 7:30 PM there was still no call and no message. My husband said maybe you ought to check your e-mail. Sure enough there was an e-mail message from her that came in at three PM: Having a bad day would you like to go eat Thai food? "It's a comedy of errors! I'm okay letting it all go," I said to my husband. "You should call, use my cell phone," my husband offered. "Perhaps we can salvage this." I hate phones but I knew he was right and so I braved it.

"Hi," I said. "I just got your message. I've been guarding the phone instead of my email! This has been a comedy of errors." I laughed. "Oh I just ate," she said. "Would you like to come here? Do you drink wine?" I'm allergic to wine, but I didn't want to say no and spoil the invitation so I said, "Sure." I grabbed a fresh little loaf of my bread as a house gift and took an antihistamine and we headed over.

When we parked she came outside and we sat at a picnic table on the river and chatted for a few hours under the full moon. I had a huge stomachache by the end of the night which seems to happen whenever I socialize. "You just have social anxiety," my husband said. "True. I do!" I replied.