1. When readers of Finslippy email me, they invariably apologize for the email. "I know you're probably inundated with emails," they say. "You get this all the time. I'm sorry." And I reply that yes, I am indeed inundated, apology not accepted, and maybe I grant them a few precious words-- I don't bother with punctuation because I'm far too busy. Or I don't reply at all, but they shouldn't be surprised, for I am, after all, inundated.
The truth is that I get maybe three emails from readers a week. Tops. I get plenty of emails from my friends, and drugstore.com, and my mom, who likes to forward the malapropisms and wacky historical errors that young schoolchildren spend their days in school inventing. I have plenty of time to respond to my readers' emails. But instead of writing to them, I spend my hours brushing my hair and singing gaily as bluebirds listen just outside my window.
2. There I go again. I don't spend all day brushing my hair. I don't even own a brush.
3. Actually I do own a brush. I'm sorry. If I use it, it's to knock any birds outside my window off of their perch. And I laugh and laugh. And go back to counting my doubloons.
I apologize for my deceptions.