You’ve heard the old proverb “A watched pot never boils,” right? Well I have a subspouse version of that old gem.
“A watched inbox only fills with Redbox coupon codes and penile enlargement advertisements.”
It may not be as catchy, perhaps, but it does sell my point.
When Josh is deployed, email is a lifeline. There are no phone calls, no Skyping, and no port calls. Mail drops are few and far between, not to mention never guaranteed. His good-byes are the last words I hear, and watching him board the dreaded deployment bus is the last time I will see his face for months. To say contact is limited is a bit of an understatement.
But we have email …
Of course, by “we have email” I really mean … “we have email when they aren’t doing more important things or when he isn’t absolutely too busy doing super-serious-submarine-type-stuff or when the system isn’t broken and hoarding or kicking back your every message like some sort of spiteful mailman. (Do you ever picture Newman stockpiling our emails in some sort of super computer in Seinfeld’s basement storage? No? Just me? … Awkward.)
But on those days when the system does work … when Jerry himself takes control of delivery (heeheehee) … and the sound of “you’ve got mail” actually means “you’ve got a message from him” … those days are golden. Seeing his name pop up in my inbox is like winning the lottery! Even the few words that my not-so-talky-talky fella eeks out are amazing…
So even though I know it’s usually fruitless, even though I know it’s broken, and even though I know I’m ten time more likely to be disappointed than rewarded … I will keep refreshing my email, I will keep sorting through the JCPenney “we’re so sorry” ads and the “last ten times longer” junk mail, and I will keep sleeping with my Samsung tablet. And I will jump up every.single.time I hear “you’ve got mail!” because while it may only be a one in a million shot that it’s from him, I’ll take my chances.
I mean, who doesn’t want to win the lottery?