Using just a little help from Jeep Chick…
Dear Mr. What the Fuck was That,
I don’t know where you came from, I don’t know where you went, but phantomlike stinging my finger while I was mowing the yard was just wrong. You suck.
Dear Garbage Collector Man,
Please put the trash receptacle back where you found it. Stop leaving my damn trash can in the middle of my driveway. I realize that you are new to this route because I’ve only seen you these past 2 weeks. In my observations, I noticed that you are a grown man. So being grown and all, could you please put the can back next to the driveway as opposed to right smack dab in the middle? Thanks a million.
Dear Super Heated Ball of Gas in the Sky,
While I normally appreciate your warmth and refreshing rays, I did not today. Especially when you chose to wait until I was outside pulling like a mad women on the pull cord for the lawn mower. And then…and then you decided to stay bright, shiny, and all up in my face while I mowed the rest of the front yard. Yea, way to go there.
Dear Ms. A. Mandolin,
I miss you. Today, as I was digging for undies before my shower, your picture fell from the top of my dresser. I found it the other day in a box from when we moved. It’s the one from the Christmas band concert in junior high. You know, the one where I look like I’m wearing the Abominable Snowman and have that hideous bow in my hair? Yea, that one. I wanted to say that I like it when you do little things like that. It makes me remember to appreciate what I have in this life. Not too many months ago, July, you did the same type of thing. I took my mom and daughter to visit my grandmothers’ grave and decided out of nowhere to come see you too. Then my husband called and said we need charcoal. I hadn’t planned on going anywhere but the cemetery. I guess I just needed that extra nudge. I “snuck” in the Garden Center door since that was where the charcoal was and it made for a fast entry/exit. There you were. A miniature 10 year old version of you. It kind of hurt, but it was worth every second of it. When I looked at that picture today, I realized that we weren’t much older than that in the photo. It seems like so long ago, but then it feels like just yesterday.
Dear Mr. Sandman,
Would it kill you to make sure you give me enough sand so that I sleep the whole night? Not just every couple of hours here and there. Thanks in advance.