Hilary Moon Murphy

Dusted

Yesterday at work I found a mysterious envelope sitting on my desk. It was an IRS envelope that someone had resealed with several layers of a thick clear plastic tape. Sally, my boss, had no idea what it was. I was trying to clear my desk of extraneous paper, so I opened it to see if I could toss it. With great effort, I pulled the tape off and the envelope pulled apart, releasing a great cloud of dust.

The envelope was empty.

As I started coughing, my brain supplied the following helpful equation: mysterious envelope + thick tape + dust = I'm fucked.

I'm looking at what I just wrote, trying to find someway to express my feeling at that moment without the profanity. Surely a competent writer could do this. Surely.

I'm not coming up with anything. Besides, that really was what I had thought. Okay, it stands.

I began rehearsing in my mind all the things that I had heard on the radio one should do when one suspects that a letter contains anthrax:

1. Don't inhale. (Oops. Blew that one.)
2. Isolate the envelope. (Dust was everywhere. Blew that one too.)
3. Evacuate the premises. (Could I do it, getting everyone's names, without starting a panic?)
4. Notify the authorities.
5. Shower. (At work? Yeah, right.)
6. Antibiotics. (Would they do any good in an inhalational case?)

Then I thought, calm down. Who the heck would pick our library as a target? I looked at the envelope again. The dust was coming from the ripped material in the envelope's padding. Putting anthrax in the padding of an envelope seemed far too subtle for terrorism by mail. Why bother?

But why was this empty used IRS envelope sitting on my desk? Why would anyone reseal an empty envelope with that much tape?

I approached my boss. "Sally, do you have anyone you know that really really hates the library or its staff?" I explained what had happened, as calmly at I could. Then I said, "I'm going to wash my hands while you call security, okay?"

Here were my thoughts as I washed my hands:

It's nothing. Calm down.

I wonder how much of it I inhaled?

It's just packing material.

Then why was the envelope taped when it was empty?

There's probably a rational explanation.

Maybe I should call home and talk to Andy and Cassie one last time. Just in case.

Of course, I had overreacted. While I was washing my hands, one of the aides saw the envelope and asked, "What the heck is this still doing here?"

The envelope was already leaking packing material when she had pulled out the forms that the IRS sends us to distribute to the public, so she taped it to be thrown away. Another aide saw the sealed, official looking envelope in the trash can and fished it out, just in case it was important.

Mystery solved, but the panic remained with me.

I think that the most important thing about scares like these is that they remind me how little time each of us really has to accomplish the things that are important to us. I realize that I hadn't gotten much done on my writing goals or really anything else. It's time to start pushing myself. I've been working on finishing one of my novel chapters, so that's why this journal has not gotten many postings lately.

What else has been going on? Today I bought a supporting membership in ConJosé. Since I'm not planning on going to World Con this year, I bought the membership for one reason: to nominate and vote for the Campbell awards. I know way too many deserving authors who are in their second year of Campbell eligibility and I want to nominate them. This is one award where individual votes are crucial -- in some years the cut off to make the Campbell finalist ballot has been less than twelve votes. If you want to nominate someone too, I encourage you to do so. And if you are not a member of ConJosé or Millenial Philcon, you have until January 31st to mail in that supporting membership.

In other news, Andy did not get the job that he interviewed for. I have been working a lot more hours. Our stress level remains high, but we are forging ahead and doing our best.

I'm not opening any more envelopes sealed in tape.

Hmm