My email is fucked.

 

Yesterday was NQMB’s parents wedding anniversary. NQMB’s dad died this year and his mum is currently away visiting her sister.  NQMB was charged with buying some flowers, taking them to his dad’s grave, taking some photos of flowers at grave and emailing the photos to his mum. He gets up in the morning and races off and I spent the morning pottering about at home. At about 10am I wandered down to the local cafe and got a coffee and came back home. When I got home, the phone was ringing and I raced to answer it and had the following conversation:

NQMB (screaming down the phone):  How do I recall an email?

Me: What? I don’t know. What?

NQMB (responds in a massive panic, urgently and impatiently): How do I recall an email?

My heart started racing, thinking ‘What the hell has he sent? Do I really know this person? What the fuck has he done?’

Me: What did you send?

NQMB: My email is fucked. I can’t do this.

Me: Yeah but what did you send?

NQMB: (impatiently) My email is fucked. I can’t do this.

Me: You sent that your email is fucked?

NQMB: (panicking) Yes!!! How do I recall an email?

Me: Who did you send it to?

NQMB: My mum.

Me: You sent that your email is fucked to your mum?

NQMB: Yes! How do I recall it?

Me: Who was it meant for?

NQMB:  It was meant for you.

Me: (laughing my fucking head off) So? Send her an email saying it was meant for me.

NQMB: (goes quiet for awhile) Can I come and attach the photos at your house?

When he got to mine we attached the photos and did a test run. I sent an email  with the photos attached to my account and we opened the photos to test them. Inexplicably, an image from here had become mixed in with the photos. NQMB looked at me in shock and horror. No darling, we didn’t send that to your mum, it’s a test run, remember?

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