Last night I destroyed my apartment trying to find my I-GO careshare envelope. Found an I-GO card, but no envelope. As luck would have it, there is no name on the card so I didn't know if it was my card or Boris's. (Note to self: Better fix the apartment before Boris returns.)
Called Boris to see if I had my carshare card or if I had I picked up his. He has His so this one must be mine. The coutured wonder is headed for the beach. Hate him. I'm headed for another snowstorm.
Anyway, that led me to try to do voicemail at home. (I never do voice mail at home.) I remember "party lines" when your neighbors could take your messages. Took me 15 minutes to figure out how to access voice mail, and yet here I am blogging... Oops, I just accidentally wiped out my toolbars. Where'd they go?????? Oh there they are. Ah, technology, the bane of western civilization in the 21st century.
Finally got through to voice mail only to find 9 messages! 5 of which was some poor man, "Wilson", wandering the complex on the Ile d' Sanibel for an hour or so trying to deliver Boris's luggage . Pity. But that does explain Boris's crimes of fashion. Probably had to go foraging through some musty church basement rummage sale for the rest of his wardrobe.
I gather he got his luggage, if not: Boris, check with your neighbor, "Don" or "Dom DiSomethingItalian". Either you have found him, already, or he is now wearing the latest in Chicago summer ensembles.
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2 comments:
Sorry you are having technology problems.
Do tell more about the carshare card.
Honey, it IS 2007. So, dear Gunga, I expect you to be fully functional with voice mail. What if the Jaegermeister delivery man showed up, and you weren't home?!?! Egads! The horror! The horror!
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