Here's the idea. You take a cat and put it in a box. (This alone shows that it could never be done in reality.) Also in the box with the cat, you put a bottle of poison, a hammer, and an atom of a radioactive substance that has a 50% chance of decaying in an hour, and you set it up so that if the atom decays, the hammer hits the bottle of poison and the cat dies. Yeah, I know this is very Rube Goldbergish. Bear with me.
Now, you close the box and ignore it. In an hour, either the cat's dead or the cat's alive, and there's absolutely no way for you to tell which it is. In fact, until you open the box, you can consider the cat to be both dead *and* alive - the universe only "decides" once it's observed.
Some of you may have realized that this is an analogy.
A little over an hour and a half ago I left a floppy disk propped next to my ex's front door, then took the bus home (this being why an hour and a half - plus I stopped for a Sobe. I've never seen fully automated checkout machines before. More later.) She may have responded, she may not have - there's no way for a message she may or may not have made to reach me yet. There are 3 messages on the answering machine (2 when I left) but that doesn't mean anything because we get a mindboggling number of telephone solicitors. I haven't checked my e-mail, and I haven't checked livejournal.
It's frustrating to know that even though you've spent half a year trying to not care anymore, you still want to hear from someone you loved . . . and maybe still do :/
Time to check e-mail.