Miss Manners Hates Me

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about etiquette. What is deemed appropriate and respectable and what is considered impolite, disrespectful or otherwise rude – these questions are plaguing me. Torment over my likely infringement of tried and true social practices handed down from Queen Victoria to Martha Stewart leave me drenched in anxiety. I fear Miss Manners or Dear Abby would scowl and wag their skinny index fingers at me in disapproval if they knew the secret I am all too ashamed to admit. What is that secret, you ask? I’m a bad, bad person. I’ve done terrible things.

After nearly six months post-nuptials Mr. Oz and I still have about half of our wedding thank you notes left to send. I am a thank you note offender. Bless me Father, for I have sinned . . . Can I just say twelve Hail Mary’s and six Our Father’s and get on with my penance already? I know I’m not Catholic, but with all the guilt I feel, I might as well be.

I’m usually fairly prompt about stuff, ya know. I hardly ever pay my bills late. When invited to a party, I’m usually one of those guests that show up a few minutes early or, at the very least, right on time. I try to bring the host or hostess a gift. Nice bottle of wine. A loaf of crusty bread . . . ya know, the good stuff. Beyond my natural proclivity for timeliness, I’m also pretty fond of writing notes. I like the feeling of pen on paper. The flow of ink, its stained impression on a blank canvas, always leaves me with a sense of contentment. Finally, I can speak for Mr. Oz and myself when I say that we really, really are appreciative for all the nice gifts and well wishes we received. So, what’s my deal? I just can’t seem to get my act together on this front. Why? Why do I find this so damn difficult?

In an attempt to give me the benefit of the doubt, you might consider the fact that we just don’t have the necessary supplies handy. Maybe we are fresh out of note cards or envelopes. The post office ran out of stamps. Alas, that is not the case. We have a stack of cards, plenty of envelopes and postage.

After some soul searching I’ve come to a single conclusion. In short, I blame technology.
If it weren’t for the speed and efficiency of email, my Facebook wall-to-walls, instant messaging, texts and cell phones, we would still live in an age where writing and mailing letters was both the preeminent and the most practical form of communication. The habit of physically scratching our fondest regards to loved ones and acquaintances would be so cemented into our everyday lives that posting another three dozen thank you cards would be a small task happily accomplished. Remember when we used to have pen pals? I do. I’d write a 4, 5, maybe 6 page letter on my fabulous pink, Strawberry Shortcake stationary. Shoot that bad boy off and wait patiently for a reply some 2 to 4 odd weeks later. I did this with joy in my heart knowing my words, the paragraphs I took such care in crafting, were winging their way across the continent. Today, writing letters blows. Who the hell cares anymore? I almost NEVER get a real letter in the mail. And, if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I’m surprised stationary stores and pens still exist. The US postal service is old school just barely hanging on to its last shred of dignity. Today, it’s all about faster, easier, sound bite comments sent through the Internet ether. Today we are all business. Yesterday we had heart. The romance is dead people.

I’m not here to make excuses for myself (o.k., well, only a little bit), but I’m telling you, we are all caught in the middle of a war between what was and what is and my wedding thank you notes just happen to be the casualties. The propriety and dignity of days gone by is slowly fading. Nostalgia is for suckers. If you are among those waiting for your thank you card, know that I will continue to fight the good fight until it rests safely in your mailbox. I won’t rest until this battle has been won!

Now, excuse me whilst I go download more IPhone apps. A girl has got to do, what a girl has got to do.