More suspense. But it could be worse.

Have I ever mentioned that I’m a little bit psychic?  Because I am.  For real.  Mostly it manifests as knowing when I’ve received snail mail/texts/email/phone calls, and knowing who they’re from – or at least knowing whether it’s something important or something spammy.

In the past, when I’ve written someone an emotionally charged email, I’ve known when the person responded – whether I was anywhere with email access or not.  Usually I actually know beforehandI’ve been sitting at my computer doing other things before and suddenly gotten a prickly feeling of dread in my stomach and thought “Oh god.  So-and-so is in the process of responding” minutes before the response hit my inbox.

I’m particularly glad of this ability right now.  

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still kinda jumpy and checking my email a thousand times a day just in case.  But every time I see that (1) in my inbox, I notice that my stomach isn’t prickling and therefore assume that this message will not be from The Pedant, and I stifle my disappointment accordingly.  

Occasionally I’ve been wrong in these sorts of situations.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between intuition and wishful thinking, and I pounce on my email inbox in misplaced excitement; conversely, maybe once or twice an important email has shown up without me “feeling” it arrive.  But so far in this particular instance I’ve been dead accurate.  This business with The Pedant is such a big deal to me (what with all the love and sex being at stake) that I would imagine when (if?) he does finally contact me, it’ll be an 8 or 9 on the Richter scale.  Totally unmistakable.

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