There's disappointment, and it comes in many shapes and sizes. But there's these little forms of disappointment that are not really anything that should bother someone, but sting like a papercut that you've licked and dipped in salt.

What am I talking about? When you come home, and you see there's a new Caller ID message blinking and one new message on your answering machine. Say, for whatever reason, you're hoping someone may have called. You drop everything you're carrying and shuffle through the darkness over to that flashing red beacon on top of your Caller ID box. You hit Play on your answering machine and turn on the kitchen light, and just as you push the button to reveal the mystery caller, the message plays -- it's a hang-up. Then the caller comes up on the box: "CLIFTON GRAY"

Suddenly, you realize that the message on the machine was actually you, calling home earlier to see if anyone had called -- which you had forgotten you'd done.

See? Not only do you feel disappointed, but you feel pretty stupid, too. At least I do.

This disappointment even trumps going to your mailbox for the first time in 3 days, and opening it up and revealing ---------- nothing. Not a damn scrap of paper. Not even a "Have You Seen Me?". It's like, wow... I would have appreciated even a little bit of junk mail, even a bill, but... nothing?

Don't worry, I'm not in a foul mood or anything. Just unloading the crap in my head. I'm working on a fiction piece in my head, and I may put pen to paper (or keyboard to spreadsheet) tomorrow and post it here. Kind of a cool premise, but I don't want to give it away.