Get organized

This is an email I sent to my boyfriend today. It made him laugh so much that he said I should put it on here. (I’ve changed my surname for anonymity.)

Hello! Topping up on Orange has gone awry. I dialed the number to register my phone, which involved speaking to an automated voice.

“What is your post code?”
“xxx xxx.”
“Is it: xxx xxx? Please say yes or no.”
“Yes!” Fantastic.

It was going swimmingly but I knew the name part could be tricky. A lot of people don’t get my name in a Rosanne/Rosanna/Rosie/Rose/back to Rosanne and then confused kind of way.

The fembot said, “What is your last name?”
“Smith,” said I.
“Is it: Smith? Please say yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“What is your first name?”
“Rosa.”
“Is that: Rasa? Please say yes or no.”
“No.”
“Please say it again.”
“Rosa.”
“Is it: Rasa?”
“No.”
“Is that: No?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, No Smith.”
“No!”

Shit. Hang up. Call again. Hope it doesn’t still think my name is No. It doesn’t, but it doesn’t remember anything else either. Give all my details again and get to the naming.

“Smith.”
“Is that: Smith? Please say yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“What is your first name?”
“Rosa.”
“Is that: Greta? Please say yes or no.”
“No????”
“Please say it again.”
“Rosa.”
“Greta.”
“Rosa.”
“Greta.”
“NO. ROSA.”
“Rasa.”

Aaaaagh.

I phone a real person.

“Hello, how may I help you?”
“Hello, I’m trying to register my phone but it doesn’t understand my name.”
“Okay, what is your name?”
“Thank you. It is Rosa.”
“Rasa?”

Oh my god.

I have now in theory topped up but apparently it takes ages to go through, which is why I am writing this rather than texting you properly.

1am seems so far away, I miss you and I can’t wait to talk to you. I’ve been thinking of you all day. I love you.

From Greta.

I mean.

From Rasa.

I mean.

From Rosa.

xxx

Including an entry like this on my list has had some unexpected consequences. My first thought was that “get organised” would mean making my goals more accessible (“access” being a buzz word of the disability blogs I’d been reading that day) but it also included the idea that in order to do some goals I’d have to buy items in order to do it. Which means I feel much less guilty about spending money. This didn’t happen instantly – it took a while to trickle in – but this past month I’ve felt much more confident with my cash.

My dad used to tell me I was lazy and spoilt and wasting my life when really I was just ill. I felt for a long time that I didn’t deserve anything, and I should make myself as quiet and as small as possible. I suspect this is also the reason I was nervous and put off buying the plants I wanted for my garden in spring. Because I’m housebound I shop online, so shopping feels much more showy as every package is accompanied with a loud knock at the door by the postman.

Apparently telling myself I need to be more organised as opposed to telling myself I was worthy is way more effective in getting me over this hurdle.

I am not spoilt. I am organised. Ha!