How Excited Am I? Let Me Count the Ways

I’ve been telling everybody about my book. It’s a pretty short conversation, but I’m too excited to keep it to myself. (A book! I published a book! Me! Isn’t it pretty? Isn’t it interesting? A whole book! Novellas count!)

Most of these conversations end in general congratulations (which I love, don’t get me wrong), but some, besides being flattering to my ego, are hilarious as well.

Today, when the UPS guy came in with our first delivery, I started bouncing in my chair. (I did say I’m telling everybody, right?)

Me: “Guess what?”

Him: “You’re a nut?”

Me: “Well, that too. But I published a book!”

Him: “A book?! Really? Where can I find this book?”

Me: “On Amazon!”

Him: “What’s it called?”

Me: (Thinking he probably won’t remember the title by the end of what’s probably a very long day for a UPS driver in Texas) “Just search for Rachel Wicker! I’m the only one there is!”

Him: “Thank goodness for that.”

(This is the same UPS driver who, for security/privacy/conspiracy reasons unknown refuses to reveal his name. So I call him Moriarty and he calls me Watson.)

(An aside for anyone concerned about the safety of the general public: My coworker worried that my swelling head would push her up against the wall of our shared office and squish her. I pointed out that she has a letter opener, so if my head gets that big, it should be easy to pop me.  She agreed that she’ll do that if she needs to, so the problem will be taken care of long before my head can swell big enough to throw Earth’s orbit out of balance and send us all spinning into fiery doom in the center of the sun. Which is good, because wouldn’t that be embarrassing? It’s nice to have coworkers you can count on in an emergency.)

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