Uppence to come?

In the end, most of my anxiety about the column Saturday was much ado about very little.

See? Told ya you were worrying for nothing ...

See? Told ya you were worrying for nothing …

Yep, there were a couple of responses (one from the writer I mentioned in the last post) in which they basically had read into the column what they believed about me and the page. One of them was confusing all around; I couldn’t tell if he was thanking us or damning us … and he insulted Steph for some reason.

The “gentleman” I mentioned who was angry that I wouldn’t print his Viagra jokes decided that a lot of people had the same complaint he did (not by a long shot, dude) and that sometimes companies hire someone who does a job too well, eventually affecting revenue and necessitating a good talking-to. Of course, he was sure mine was imminent.

And yet …

I got feel-good comments from many co-workers and my boss (a lovely note which, yes, even called me on a grammar slip, and that I appreciated as much as the kind words), as well as a few of the people whose columns and letters I’ve printed. Even more amazing, a formerly difficult letter-writer actually sent a note complimenting Steph and me, and admitting that we had made his last letter better with the slight editing done to it (just part of the job, but thank you, kind sir!).

And now I know for certain that people who are out in the boondocks (where I’m from and where circulation for the statewide paper is lower) are reading the paper, and specifically my page. I talked to my mom a little while ago and she told me that while she was napping earlier today, someone came by and left her the clipping of my column in the door so she wouldn’t miss it.

Not bad. I feel better. Well, except for my right leg, which Luke has decided is a scratching post.

Everyone’s a critic.

Are you through freaking out? Can we get the subject back to me now?

Are you through freaking out? Can we get the subject back to me now?

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