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When the white envelopes emblazoned with the British Gas or BT logos are shoved through the letterbox of my hermitage by the elastic band-shedding posties – sporting the kind of disability which, while leaving them able to open a gate, cruelly has robbed them of the capacity to close the very same gate on their way out – my heart jumps with joy at the prospect of double checking my meter readings, tutting over the ridiculous additional fees for not using my telephone enough, and getting out my little gadget which is designed to keep my bank account secure by not allowing anyone, least of all me, access to my money. I am never without a prompt payment discount and my old bills are filed neatly in chronological order, inscribed in Biro® with the date of payment.

Why should the arrival of an email be any different? Open it, read it, respond accordingly, file it. Why then are my numerous email inboxes full to bursting with unanswered emails and unfiled junk? Is this just another symptom of my as yet unaddressed technophobia or is this a phenomenon of 21st century life that the human organism has not yet adapted to? I know it isn’t just me. Although everyone I’ve come across has a combined aversion to both snail mail and the electronic version, often related to the avoidance of financial commitments.

I feel obliged to confess that in a previous life, I once deleted over 200 emails from my work account because I just couldn’t face the months of backlog. As it happens, it was the kind of job where unanswered emails tended to sort themselves out eventually with little to no intervention from me at all. It is very unlikely that anyone’s dreams were crushed by my shocking dereliction of duty but if they were I can only apologise profusely and throw myself humbly upon the mercy of the disappointed.

I have not yet devised a coping mechanism for the crushing psychological weight that oppresses the shoulders at the mere sight of Inbox(68) but at least I can devise a word.

Theorgrammaphobia /θiəgraməˈfəʊbiə/ >noun

An irrational fear and loathing of looking at written correspondence.

There, I feel better already.  Naming it is the first phase of beating it.  If I’d been given the chance to denominate my debilitating fear of birds I might be a little further along in dealing with it than merely contemplating the creation of a web site committed to informing the wary traveler of the avian population statistics for international tourist destinations. I was thinking of calling it titadvisor.com but that could result in some unfortunate confusion. In fact, the site probably already exists, I just haven’t the courage to look.

GRPs for paying the bills on time: +2

FitnePs for two, count them, two runs this week: +5

CRPs for allowing myself to be saved from professional suicide: +1

FamPs for going visiting and being relatively polite: +2

KarmaPs for doing the right thing and just driving the car as requested: +1

Total so far…

  • Karma: +16
  • FRP: +153.1
  • Relationships: +2
  • Family: +5
  • Friends: +9 [Supplementary PPs: +2]
  • Career: +16
  • Fitness: -6
  • General: +9
Lyric of the week: How to tear apart the ties that bind? Perhaps “f*** off” might be too kind.