Most of my life, I forget you're there. In the corner. All alone. If you were a plant, you'd have died eighteen times by now. But sometimes, like tonight, I come home from work after a long day after a long weekend, and you give me something mindless to do before I go to bed. Just want to say thanks, TV. Thanks for not being a plant, and thanks for being mindless.
Hugs & kisses,
B
Monday, November 26, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Dear Friends,
Five bridesmaid dresses in my closet and approximately thirty-five wedding programs in my scrapbook suggest that, now that you're all married off, if you ever want to see me at a wedding again, you'd better start helping me find a guy.
Hugs & kisses,
B
Monday, November 12, 2012
Dear Trader Joe's,
Thanks for selling prewashed, ready-to-eat green beans that take zero effort to pull out of a fridge crisper and shove into my face while I veg exhaustedly on the sofa after a weeklongfeeling Monday. While I channel my inner e. e. cummings and make up my own words, you provide me with more nourishing foodstuffs than the rather more tempting jar of Nutella in the back of my cabinet or the potato chips that I neglected to purchase for my eatallthethings mood.
Hugs & kisses,
B
Hugs & kisses,
B
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Dear Mr. President,
Okay, so it wasn't all your fault.
Yesterday was the last day of an 8-day workweek. The first two days of that week, I went to my job without a voice and with a moderate-to-severe sinus infection that I'd had for 2 1/2 weeks. The fifth day of that week, I flew to Michigan, and the last three days of that week, I had worked 13-hour shifts, on my feet most of the time, the antibiotic for my sinus infection and the air conditioning in the hospital cracking my lips and drying out my eyes as I stared at computer screens and tried to help nurses understand their new software.
When I finally got into the Detroit airport and found my flight home to Madison listed on the monitors, you can imagine my distress to see that it would take off more than an hour late. Knowing, as I did, that you were in Madison yesterday as part of your last-minute whistle-stop tour to drum up political support in swing states, I immediately blamed you for the delay. "Surely it's the president's fault," I thought, "for shutting down the Madison airport to all flights but Air Force One, and delaying my arrival home."
I was even composing an open letter to you on the subject, something along the lines of disrupting people's lives in order to garner support for your own cause.
But then when I got on the plane, they said there had been mechanical problems back in Providence this morning, and that the flight had been off schedule all day. Nothing to do with you, Mr. President.
So I apologize for blaming you for something that wasn't actually your fault. I'm sure that, as a public figure, you're used to it, but on this day, when 130 million people or so decide whether or not you still have your job next year, I just wanted to say oops.
Yesterday was the last day of an 8-day workweek. The first two days of that week, I went to my job without a voice and with a moderate-to-severe sinus infection that I'd had for 2 1/2 weeks. The fifth day of that week, I flew to Michigan, and the last three days of that week, I had worked 13-hour shifts, on my feet most of the time, the antibiotic for my sinus infection and the air conditioning in the hospital cracking my lips and drying out my eyes as I stared at computer screens and tried to help nurses understand their new software.
When I finally got into the Detroit airport and found my flight home to Madison listed on the monitors, you can imagine my distress to see that it would take off more than an hour late. Knowing, as I did, that you were in Madison yesterday as part of your last-minute whistle-stop tour to drum up political support in swing states, I immediately blamed you for the delay. "Surely it's the president's fault," I thought, "for shutting down the Madison airport to all flights but Air Force One, and delaying my arrival home."
I was even composing an open letter to you on the subject, something along the lines of disrupting people's lives in order to garner support for your own cause.
But then when I got on the plane, they said there had been mechanical problems back in Providence this morning, and that the flight had been off schedule all day. Nothing to do with you, Mr. President.
So I apologize for blaming you for something that wasn't actually your fault. I'm sure that, as a public figure, you're used to it, but on this day, when 130 million people or so decide whether or not you still have your job next year, I just wanted to say oops.
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