We all have one.
You know. That number.
That one number we all keep to ourselves and secretly and instantly compare with others should we ever learn of someone else’s number from a tipsy conversation or a truth or dare moment.
It’s the number we continuously try to justify, asking ourselves, “Am I normal?” or “I’m in my 20s, I’m having fun, so who cares?”
The other day, mine slipped out. And to tell the truth, I was horrified.
The other night I was showing an email to my roommate and, naturally, I had my Gmail open. And then it happened. She saw it—my number, my inbox number—and I think she had palpitations.
Apparently, having an inbox number of 459 messages is a huge “no-no.”
She put my computer down, took me aside, and lectured me on the appropriate use of “archiving” and “labeling” and the fail-proof methods of using them. Of course, there is such a thing as human error, but I can always go back into my trash file to set it right.
It wasn’t so bad. I am wiser now. No one ever told me. Sure, we learned about the early days of email and computer usage back in the day of “computer class” in middle and high school, but methods were so archaic back then, and you could never act like you were actually interested in what the teacher had to say.
I am happy to report that my Gmail inbox is now clean of spam and junkmail, and I am now down to a healthy inbox of 45 messages.
So now that I have shared, I implore you—take care of your emails! Your life is told though your inbox. What does yours say about you??
Confessions Of A Splenda Stealer 