A Sad Tale

I have this really cute pair of earrings. They fit into that "perfect earring" category, if you know what I mean. They're smallish, so they don't overwhelm. They're pewterish silver, so they go with anything. They're dangly but not very long, and they have this cute little rosette at the bottom with a cute little low-profile pink stone in them.

And I can never wear them.

And no, it's not because I'm allergic. The real reason is much, much, more pathetic and sad than that. The story goes something like this:

Two years ago (yes people, that said TWO YEARS AGO), I was doing my thing, just walking around my house (cleaning again, because as you know I am ALWAYS cleaning), when I find this cute little pair of earrings lying on the bureau in my living room. They sparked the following conversation:

Me: Hey, does anyone know where these earrings came from?

Liam: (seven yrs old at the time) Oh yeah, those are from Grandma.

Me: They are? How do you know? Did she give them to you?

L: No, I found them in the mailbox.

Me: The mailbox? Well how do you know they're from Grandma if you found them in the mailbox? (My mother always writes old-school cursive, and I knew there was no way he could have deciphered that).

L: Because it came with a note.

Me: What did the note say?

L: I can't remember.

Me: Well, where is the note?

L: I threw it in the garbage.

Me: The kitchen garbage?

L: No. The big garbage out by the road.

Are you following this? That would be the big, disgusting, garbage garbage, that all the other garbage goes into. The big smelly one the actual garbage truck dumps on Wednesdays. The garbage way too disgusting for me to scrounge around in looking for some mysterious note from some really nice, thoughtful person.

I was irritated. Frustrated. Exasperated. Why? Why, why, why would he think it was okay to throw away a note? A note written to his mother, accompanying a gift? If he hadn't been so cute - and so pathetically sorry when he realized he'd done something horribly wrong - I would have turned into "Mean Mommy".

But I didn't.

I still had hope. After all, surely I could find the giver of the cute earrings, right? I mean, I don't know that many thoughtful, generous people, right?

Wrong.

I called everyone I could think of. For weeks, I would randomly think of names and call people to ask them if they, by any chance, left a cute little pair of dangly earrings in my mailbox.

No one knew anything about it.

"That's okay," I told myself, "even if I can't thank the person, I can still wear them - right?" Wrong. I can't wear them, and it's so unfair. It's bad enough that some kind, thoughtful person was generous to leave me cute earrings and a note, and I never even thanked them. They no doubt already think I'm the most ungrateful person ever.

But how much worse would it be if they saw me WEARING the earrings - actually utilizing the results of their generosity? There I'd be, with the cute earrings dangling from my earlobes, talking away, STILL not thanking them for the kind, thoughtful gift. Then they'd know - without a doubt - that I really was the most ungrateful person ever.

As it is, the mystery giver probably thinks I just didn't like them. But why, oh why couldn't they have ever called just to say: "So, did you ever get those earrings I left in your mailbox? I was worried one of your kids might have taken them and thrown the note into your big nasty garbage can, and that you might not have known they were from me."

But no, instead they were just too kind and thoughtful to bring up the subject of a pair of earrings I no doubt hated.

And so, the moral of this story is - If you ever mail (or leave in someone's mailbox) a cute, thoughtful gift accompanied by a note, but then never hear from the person regarding the cute, thoughtful gift - CALL THEM! Make sure they actually received the gift (and accompanying note)!

And if anyone reading this blog is the sender of my cute, anonymous earrings, please reveal yourself! I'm tired of only wearing them when I'm out of state visiting strangers, or taking the risk, wearing them anyway, and then feeling compelled to ask every person I know if my earrings look familiar to them.

It's bad enough that someone out there thinks I'm the most ungrateful person ever - I should at least get to wear the earrings