One of the quirky things about me is deep down I try to follow directions. I may be chaotic and unpredictable at times in some areas, but I can be quite a worrywart who follows directions when they are given by someone whom I respect or trust.
So one day, Rocky decided to leave me this little note:
Can you imagine my reaction to it?
You'll have to pardon my iPhone's crappy camera, but that note reads "Don't Open."
Yes, here I am with a note from my Rocky with directions on its very cover NOT TO OPEN IT. My brain was going ballistic. My heart knew it was another one of his sweet notes for me, but my brain REFUSED to open it. My brain kept telling me, "Follow the directions. Rocky told you not to open it" even if I logically knew he intentionally wrote that to have some fun.
I actually stared at him and begged him to let me open it. Repeatedly, I asked if I could "...open it now?" because for some reason I cannot adequately explain further, hearing him countermand the note's top message would be enough for me to feel okay about opening it.
Yes. I didn't open it. For at least half the day.
I recall bringing it with me to work.
I recall tucking it in my wallet, wanting to keep it close but unsure if I can open it.
I recall Rocky telling me to open it eventually, and me finding the simple yet meaningful message inside:
I love the guy to bits.
He so gets me.