Monday, February 13, 2012

I drove up to the local Franklin-Covey store this morning, intent on browsing and procuring a storage box for my personal size Filofax pages.  I wasn't sure if they carried them, but I would surely enjoy the hunt.  Prior to entering the store I reviewed my black Amazona for too-intimate scribblings; I planned to censor as needed so that I could share my new bundle of joy with Franklin Covey manager Amy.  Amy knows of my affliction and accepts it with a cheerful smile.  I have told her about and  I have shown her many incarnations of planners as I flitted in and out of her store, more likely leaving empty-handed than not.  She was always friendly and kind.

Imagine my dismay when I saw that the pathway leading to the store was blocked by yellow and black tape!  And a construction truck was backed up to the entrance!!  Oh, no!!  I crossed the tape and stared in the windows at a scooped out shell of a promise.  Empty.  Torn up.  "This store is closed.  Visit us online or in [a city far away]."

My Amazona, ready for its close-up as is, stayed put in my purse.  And, I admit, I'm a bit relieved that there's one less person walking the streets of my neighborhood who senses the depth of my paper vice.

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