Dear Cat,

I spoke too soon. Way to pee on the most expensive thing in my closet: the pair of satiny dress shoes I just got two days ago for my maid of honor trappings.

Boo & hisses,
B

Dear Cat,

I'm sorry I shut you up in my closet this morning so you were trapped in there for 12 hours while I was at work.

In all fairness, though, this is precisely why I yell at you whenever you venture into my closet in the first place. In any case, thanks for not peeing on any of my clothes or dying from the heat.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Second Week of the Semester,

You are cold, cruel, and heartless.  Okay, I'll be reasonable: You are unseasonably warm, cruel, and heartless.  A sore back, three hundred pages of reading, and a very awkward coffee date remind me that Christmas break not only softened my middle but molded my brain into a ridgeless lump and did nothing for my social life.  Please be merciful to me.

Love,

A

This guest letter brought to you (a little belatedly -- sorry!) by my dear friend A.

Dear Metaphorical Blanket That Has "Don't Get Out of Bed This Morning" Stitched All Round Its Edges,

When my alarm goes off and you immediately descend on me, tucking yourself in around my toes and covering my head with the dark, heavy feeling of foreboding toward the day, why don't I ever listen to you? I have plenty of mornings when I just don't want to get out of bed, but you don't show up on those mornings. The mornings when you wrap me up in fear of the forthcoming day should make me sit up and take notice. "Hey, this morning's going to suck. Maybe I should just let it pass by without me."

But then I ignore you and I log in to work and my computer crashes and my health insurance company calls me and doesn't know where my policy is in its transfer across state lines.

You know something, though? That was just the morning. You just say, "Don't get out of bed this morning." That doesn't refer to the whole day.

Clean laundry, fun students, hilarious creative narrative assignments, a walk in the sunny and dormant botanical garden near my laundromat, and a surprise gift of chocolate-covered pretzels made the afternoon worth living for. So, you smothering old blanket, maybe I should listen to you more often, but then again, maybe I should focus on the distinction of "morning." Some morning's gonna hate. But that doesn't necessarily apply to the whole long day.

Still, I like the clear warning. Please don't stop alerting me when I'm about to enter a foregone forenoon.

Hugs & kisses,
B