chain mail

I got a fun letter in the mail from a friend this week, asking me to participate in a bit of literary chain mail. Since I’m posting it here, that should indicate I’m interested.

The premise is pretty simple. I send a used paperback — one that I liked — to the person included on the back of the letter I was sent. (It’s the person who invited the person who invited me.) I then send the letter out to six of my friends, and change the address on the back of the letters I send so that the books will be sent to the person who invited me.

…and that’s it. It’s one book, ping six friends, and you’re done.

I only have a few days left to get my part in order, though. Interested? If so, leave me a comment or drop me an email. As soon as I’ve got six, I’ll get started. I’m guessing between the librarians and the far-flung friends, I can probably dig up six people.

So, tonight, I get a bulk email—to my hotmail dropbox—from a sender whose email address I barely recognize.

I have to laugh at this person’s gullibility. It was a chain email of the species, “Send this on to fifteen people and you will find the person you’re meant to be with!!!!!!!” (Of course, lots of exclamation marks in case you didn’t realize how important this was.)

My response: “Well, he’s in the living room, reading; shall I go get him for you?”

Silly humans. If they’re going to forward me chain email, they should at least forward email that’s suited to the subject. I have, after all, been married for nearly three years.

Whoa—brain check there. Yep, three years as of next month. I fear we’re sliding past that newlywed stage into old-married-couple stage.

But…now that I think about it, I don’t mind. I hated dating with a passion.