I’m currently out of the office until Aug. 16, but will check e-mail sporadically until then. That’s right: I’m “out of office” while you, dear reader, are “in office.” I know how you feel. At first you thought, “Wow, Lloyd is really on top of things. He read and replied to my e-mail within seconds. He’s competent AND he cares.”

But now, the letdown. Not only have I not replied to your e-mail, I’ve not even read it, and (even worse) I’ve decided before looking at it that it could be handled by AutoReply, no human hand at all. This computer-assisted negligence can only complicate your already over-the-top working life. Perhaps your e-mail to me was part of your earnest attempt to clear your desk, maybe so that you, too, can get “out of office.” Your plan was to put the matter out of your office and into mine, where it no doubt belongs. But no, it was not to be. It’s still your headache, and now this Auto Reply adds a little mental sticky note: “This one won’t go away until Aug. 16 at the earliest.” If it helps, you could say to yourself (out loud), “As if I care!” Indeed, why should you care? You sent your e-mail; you’re done.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if “out of office” didn’t immediately provoke various yearnings and envious speculations on your part. Perhaps you imagine me standing on the beach, watching the sun set as a salty breeze tussles my hair. I’m roasting hot dogs over a campfire while clever computers handle my correspondence. And all the while, you’re “in office.” How unfair is that?

But of course, there are other possibilities. Maybe I’m in rehab for a severe Internet addiction. Maybe my office door is crisscrossed with yellow tape reading “Crime Scene — Do Not Cross.” For me, being out-of-office just now is the cumulative effect of a lifetime of choices and contingencies that are particular to me. Your life has been different. And that’s good! Being in-office right now is just one facet of a story that is particularly, gloriously, you.

But the planet will turn, the nights chill, rains fall and wanderers return. Some injustices will be righted while others deepen. Think of me in-office on Aug. 17, reviewing a list of lapsed connections and lost opportunities. Mortgage rates will have risen from their historic lows; body parts will have missed their last chance for unparalleled growth. You will have forgotten me, turning instead toward the real and the present. But we — both of us — will finally be “in office” again. Maybe we could talk?