Hello. It’s Belinda.
Happy Easter to those of you who celebrate.
One of the traditions in this house goes something like this. My roommate will walk around all day asking me, my boyfriend’s companion and the English for her Easter basket.
“You hid it really well, bunnies!” She’ll look behind the couch and inside the car carriers. Exaggerate her movements like she's actually expecting to find candy and dyed eggs stashed somewhere in the house.
Last year she even yanked at the metal panel on the front of the furnace. Which is taking it too far in my opinion, even though she was just goofing around. I don’t want to be rude but my roommate gets carried away and it’s hard to tell when she’s just “acting.”
Speaking of that, she tried to pull a fast one this week. Related to my birthday, which is tomorrow (April 22).
If I were back home in New Zealand, my birthday would be half over already. But I’m in Pennsylvania, USA, so I celebrate according to “EST.” Eastern Standard Time.
And to be honest, I started “whooping it up” on Friday. Because that’s when I got the best gift of my life.
It all started when my agent showed up unexpectedly. I was dozing under the dining room table so my roommate answered the door.
“Sorry to barge in like this Belinda.”
I noticed my agent was giving my roommate a side look. And vice versa.
“It’s too bad you couldn’t let Belinda know you were coming,” my roommate said.
She had a little smile on her face. Which was odd, because there is nothing “amusing” about people knocking on the door at 9 o’clock in the morning EST.
“If only I could send her a message,” said my agent.
By this point I was one toe shy of a thump and I didn’t even care. Because my agent sends me messages all day long. We use the company message gizmo on the internet. Only the team can see it.
Therefore she could just type “I’m coming over at 9” and I would be ready to “talk shop” instead of sleeping under the furniture. With no time to get myself together.
Also, all the side looks and lip movements reminded me of this time last year. The weeks before my birthday. When my roommate and agent and everybody were gearing up to throw a big surprise birthday party for me.
But I thought all the jumpy behavior meant I was going to be fired. What else was I supposed to think. If you block me on Facebook that’s where my mind goes.
That’s why, this year, I asked for one thing for my birthday: No surprises, especially a party.
I’m sorry but my nerves are not up to it. Maybe if I were younger but I’m turning six tomorrow.
After I asked for that one thing I went “back to the drawing board” and added several more items to the list. Just some gift ideas to make it easier for them. Like a registry.
That brings us back to Friday morning. There I was, standing in the dining room, with that “surprise birthday party” feeling creeping up the back of my neck.
Just as I was getting ready to turn and run down to the bottom level for a little "anxiety chew," my agent started laughing.
“Belinda, do you get it? I want to ‘send you a message.’”
I had no idea what she was talking about. Then she said it.
She was there to help me set up my new email account.
Can you believe it?
She “warned” me that it’s temporary. Because she doesn’t want me on the computer sending emails “20 hours a day.”
Which is just more silliness in my opinion.
First of all, I sleep at least 8-13 hours a day. So that math doesn't add up. Also I know the Tech Team is monitoring me and reporting everything I do back to her.
So we shall see. All I know is I’ve wanted my own email for years and I am going to enjoy every minute of it.
Please send me a message and I'll write back. It will be fun. I've been "having a ball" since my email went live on Friday.
If I don’t reply right away it’s because I’m taking a half-nap or eating.
Spokesrabbit, Small Pet Select