I am the only person talking to me

I’ve detailed my obsessive compulsive emailing checking here before—hey, I’m not the only one—so you already know I like to check my email the way some people check their reflections in the mirror. Okay, okay. I’m guilty of that one, too.

You know what else is sad? I am the only person emailing me. Which is how I transfer drafts from computer to computer. Every day, I open the inbox, and Laura Hirneisen has been dutifully communicating with me.

Everyone else? Rien.

For a few days, I chose to believe an elaborate theory involving gmail, a computer geek, and a misplaced cheeseburger. But the cheeseburger couldn't still be wedged into the keyboard, accidentally intercepting all incoming emails other than Laura Hirneisen's.

Could it?