Little Red Numbers

I got up early and did a little spring cleaning. I went through my inbox, all 1,387 messages, and labeled and organized the keeper messages and nuked the rest.  And then I went through the sent box and did the same. And then on to the trash, for a final farewell. Goodbye!

I popped back on to survey the cleansing process and was presented with half a page of twenty four current emails. And there was a ridiculous pang of lonesomeness for missing the comfortable clutter of old emails.  WhatEver, brain.

That's online for ya!  Those addictive little red numbers above the facebook icons that greet you with the sentiment: you were missed, and here is proof. I love that moment just before you click on it, when it feels like holding a card that came in the mail. Someone was thinking of me: let's see who!

But I hate it, too.

Facebook's success is about the clicks it pulls from you, and that means faking you out. Sometimes those little red numbers aren't for you at all, but for someone you know who knows someone's friend's son. I don't need to know/see/read that!!!  But that's the game.

Sometimes my willpower is strong and I don't click on those numbers and leave those red tags hanging there unfulfilled. To be powerful and in control. Infuriatingly they hang there, temptingly, knowing I will eventually give in.

It will drive you insane if you're into that sort of thing. Which I am. But you didn't hear it from me.