I Talk To Myself Often, Just Usually Not By E-Mail.

I received a really bizarre e-mail today, which I am quoting with permission of the author. The subject line was "Ah, there I am! I mean, there you are," because it's from the kind of person who uses Doctor Who quotes as the subject of e-mails. It was kind of surreal to read, although I suspect the effect would have been better if I hadn't encountered it while half-asleep:

Greetings from your past. In the fall of 2005, you agreed to receive this message, which has been preserved for a year in the Forbes.com E-Mail Time Capsule. For more details, visit http://www.forbes.com/capsule

Here is the text of your message:

Hello, me from a year in the future! Hope this e-mail finds you well, yadda, yadda, yadda. This is probably pointless as a time capsule, because you can just look back at the blog archives if you ever happen to be wondering, gosh, what was I doing in November, 2005?, but what the heck. I'll send 'em to later yous (uh, mes), too. If I remember.

So right now, well, little Vir the kitten is seven weeks old and cute as a fuzzy little bug. Did you manage to teach him not to bite? 'Cause I can imagine that being a problem, now that he's adult-sized. Not that you can answer that question, of course, lacking a functional time machine. Well, I guess you *can* answer it, just, you know, a year later. And by this time you already know the answer, of course, so it's kind of pointless.

Yeah, I'm rambling. You used to do that, remember? And, a year later, I'm sure you still do.

OK, I need to get back to not-working now. (Nov. 7th, 2005: Dayshift. No queue. Dull.)

Have a good day. Go do something fun that'll be worth telling yourself about a year later.

Love,

you

I vaguely remember doing this now (and apparently I did mention it here), but I have absolutely no idea what it is I said in any of the other e-mails. So I guess it'll be a surprise!

For the record, Vir Catto no longer bites the way he did at seven weeks. He actually grew out of that pretty quickly. And it is a good thing because, yeah, I think that'd hurt a lot, as big as he is now. Of course, he's still a pain in the ass in a lot of other ways. But he's still kind of fuzzy and cute, if no longer to quite the same bug-like degree.

Alas, I fear I shall fail to follow my younger self's instructions about going out and doing something memorable, as my plan for today is basically: chug down enough coffee to offset the fact that I only got about six hours of sleep, watch a couple of things on DVD, go to work. I'm sorry for failing you, younger self! But that's almost an inevitable part of life, really, isn't it?