JET EMBARRASSED

Email is a nothingness full of adventures. It barely exists save before my eyes, yours, and the NSA's, and on some things called servers that are in secret buildings everywhere. So I guess it exists everywhere. But it doesn't breathe, eat, sleep, and I can't poke it, and it will never come perfume scented or handwritten. Really handwritten not font handwritten. It does, however, come chock full of opportunities to make peculiar mistakes. 

For instance, I was sending an email from my phone and trying to sign off "je t'embrasse," which is kind of like saying hugs and kisses, and I got the autocorrect "jet embarrassed."

Last night, I wrote an email to my mom and sister consisting of a terrible poem about how content I was with my day. This morning my sister replies saying, "Who is Dave and why did you send him this email?" I don't really actually know Dave. He was in one of my wards (congregation) years ago, I don't think we ever had a conversation, and I'm not sure why I even have his email address. It wasn't until this afternoon it dawned on me that I began the email, not with "Hello" or any other normal greeting but with "My toilet is clean."

My toilet is clean, everybody, jet embarrassed.
XOXO