Dear People of the Earth,
I am irritable regarding many things. Please give me a wide margin, or better yet, just leave me alone for the time being. It’s not you, it’s me.
Withdrawing to my hermitage now, k bye.
When did our house become the Hotel California? (Answer: this and every summer)
Does no one ever leave???
Please retreat to your corners of the house and we will reconvene when everyone can be a little more chill.
Dear My Back,
You know you’re not helping things when you spaz out like this, right? When you flare up with the perma-pain at night, I lose sleep and get even grumpier. Boo and also hiss, my back. I shake my fist at you.
Dear Fourth of July,
What with the grilled tri-tip and the salads for days and the oh-so-refreshing homemade lemon ice cream, you were really something else. Perfect food plus a swimming pool plus an evening in the canyon equalled just what I needed.
Happy birthday, imperfect America, whom I still love and for whom I still have (some) hope.
Dear Social Media,
You are being jettisoned, in all your various platforms (except maybe Twitter, because I think Twitter humor may manage to see me through this fugue state) until my mood improves, and maybe even then some as you seem to contribute to my overall ennui.
I’m lowering the expectations for our own good, alright sis? Watch them sink down and even farther down. Deep breath in. Exhale. See, that’s not so bad. Sit with it. Keep breathing. That’s right, we’re doing great.
Dear Engineer Husband,
Is there a way to disconnect the doorbell, all cell phones, my brain, and the garage door button, while simultaneously installing an invisible electrified wall around our property, just you know until I feel moderately sane again? Thanks babe. You always have my back.
Dear This Blog,
It’s a funny thing that I’m withdrawing from the world for a time to rest and slowly shed my angsty state (or not) and yet I am also literally putting this on the Internet. But does anything really make sense anymore?