Too many thanks

Although I grew up in Miami, I was raised in the southern woman tradition. Consequently, I thank everybody, all the time. If my sister calls when she says she will, I thank her. When my boss hands me more work, I thank her.

I actually make waitstaff nervous in restaurants because I can’t stop thanking them.

The waitress sets down a glass of water for me. I say, “thank you.”

She sets down my companion’s water glass, and I say “thanks” again. More thanks follow for the rolls and butter. By the time she delivers the actual beverages we’ve ordered, I know she wants to throttle me. But I can’t help myself. I worry that she’ll think I’m being rude if I don’t thank her again. “Thanks,” I say.

She grimaces and nods, barely able to contain her contempt as she strides back toward the kitchen.

Sometimes I forget or get too lazy to write thank-you notes. Then I sit around and press my hands against my forehead and fret about my bad manners and generally drive Mr. Maud crazy (I know, I know, Ma Nish Tanah).

So I know it is tedious when I thank people here, but it really is only right to recognize Stephany’s posts with thanks and praise. Pitchaya Sudbanthad wrote in to admire her commentary. And Jami Attenberg was inspired by Stephany’s titles of unfinished stories to post about story ideas she’s abandoned. (Among them: “The one about the threesome.”)

So, many thanks, Steph. It’ll be great to have you around on Fridays next year!

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