"By the way, I don't have your cell number. Can you give it to me?"This inocuous statement was in an email from my landlord, received yesterday. I gave it to her in a reply email.
That makes four times in the past month or so that I've given her my cell number.
There are several ways one could react to such a question, and perhaps it gives a little insight into my psyche to discuss what mine was.
One could, of course, have no reaction at all, and just provide the number. In fact, one could even be unaware that this is a repeated request. I strive to reach this level of Nirvana.
Some people might chuckle at the questioner's evident disorganization, while others might become annoyed and fire back a response along the lines of "write this down and quit bothering me!" But I am neither of these people.
I take this and similar questions as further proof of my insignificance. She knows she needs my number, as I am her tenant and she might need to get hold of me. But I'm so inconsequential that as soon as the question is asked, interest in the answer drifts away like a puff of smoke. Then when it occurs to her that she hasn't got my number, the reaction is not "oh I forgot to write that down" or "where did I put his number?," but rather that the subject has not even come up.
Amateur psychoanalysts can probably read even more into the fact that this resonates with me strongly enough that I feel I must discuss it with someone, and furthermore that the "someone" turns out to be a blog post. I'd rather not hear their conclusions, should they reach any before losing interest.
In the meantime, I'll patiently wait for request #5.
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