Monday, January 29, 2007
To Whom It May Concern
Dear People Who Live In My House,
You know I love, dare I say, adore all of you.
You are the lights of my life and the funk in my funky cold medina.
Unfortunately, I feel an overwhelming desire to suffocate each of you while you sleep.
I do not ask for much. I do not require flowers, cards, nor candy. I myself have eschewed Mother’s Day and all its pretense and try every year to ignore my own birthday.
I have never forced anyone to watch a chick flick or to drink soy milk. I am not weepy when I have PMS. I put the toilet seat down and never speak a word about it. I have walked through so many fart clouds I barely notice much less complain about it.
But, my friends; my beloved men...I fear I am near my breaking point.
How, when I have straightened the house, loaded the dishwasher and put away all the junk you insist on piling around the house; do you manage to completely destroy the joint before I wake up in the morning?
Must you really toss the throw pillow on to the floor? Is there no other choice but to make a pile of sweat socks in the living room as though preparing a sacrifice to the stink gods? When exactly did you conduct the poll that initiated the decision to leave Gatorade bottles crammed between the sofa cushions?
And how do you manage all of the above and more in the mere nine hours a night that I am upstairs in bed? Do you never sleep?
And so, it’s been a nice run. But now you’re going to have to go meet Jesus. Let’s see how He likes waking up to find his television reset for video games and is unable to undo it so he can watch Fox 2 News with Alan Lee.
Take your evil deeds out of my sight! Stop doing wrong...