Jul 27, 2012

Apology letters

Dear JoAnn employees,

Sorry for being that customer tonight--you know, the one that runs into the store ten minutes before closing and needs three kinds of fabric cut.  Thank you for being patient with me, even when I accidentally knocked down a huge bolt of felt and the metal rod holding up the entire display.

And thank you that everything I wanted to buy was on sale, so that leaving my coupon in the car wasn't financially irresponsible.


The late shopper

Dear Bill,

I am sorry that you had to visit the Bartle House of Horrors today.  Sorry that Kate screamed for the entire duration of your carpet cleaning activities.  Sorry that Gavin kept getting in your way.  Sorry that Zach threw up while you were in the room.  Sorry that Lexi's favorite word is a very screechy "NO!!!!"  Sorry there was gum in the family room carpet (but thanks for getting that out).  Sorry that stuff was all over the rug when it was time to clean it (although, why did you clean it after the master bedroom and before Kate's room, which are next to each other, instead of after all the rooms in that hall?).  Sorry that I snapped at you when you gave me a lecture on why a "high traffic family" like ours needs to have professional carpet cleaning services more often than every two years.

And I am sorry that I judged you because you don't have all of your teeth.

Ashamed but not,

The lady who signed your fat check

Dear Mary,

You are probably more than 80 years old, and I know you spend most of your life staring out your living room window (because you tell me that you do).  I am sure you are genuinely concerned about Gavin's safety in the street.  I am VERY aware that his bike-riding habits do not conform with generally accepted safety practices, and that he is severely lacking in common sense.  I'm glad you called the garbage company about the crazy truck driver who barrels down the cross-street every Friday at noon.  And I really hope that lunatic never drives over one of my children because he/she didn't look both ways.

But I am really, really (extra especially) tired of your lectures, even though you mean well, and even though you are the nicest neighbor I have.  Sorry for snapping at you today.  I was a little tired of Bill, and of my errant children, and of Friday in general, when our paths crossed this afternoon.


Your harried neighbor

Dear Zach,

I'm sorry I haven't had more compassion for your throbbing head and rolling stomach and aching limbs today.  I'm sorry you couldn't hear the TV over the roar of the carpet cleaner.  I'm sorry Gavin kept taking the remote, and that he hit you on the head with it. And I'm sorry your bed was just.too.far.away for your comfort.  I really hope that the priesthood blessing Dad and Brother Davis gave you this afternoon will send your bug packing.  I'll make you a yummy breakfast in the morning if you feel like eating.  Or maybe Dad will.  (Let's be realistic.)

Yours forever,


Dear Mailbox,

I hadn't visited you for several days, so I'm sure you were glad to see me this afternoon. But then I left the stroller (and four days of mail, harvested from your dark recesses) in the yard, and consequently in the rain.  Sorry about that.  Maybe if you ever offered something more interesting than Red Plum ads and credit card applications, I'd be more responsible with your goods.

I guess this isn't really an apology.


The owner of the box number that is one different than our Oregon box number, who can never remember which one it is, so she tries both, even after four years

Dear waistline,

It's been such a bad week for you and I.  Wow.  We were doing so great there for a while!  I wonder if the YMCA thinks we have died.  Won't the daycare lady be surprised when we show up on Monday, and instead of being dead, you'll be twice your usual size?

But weren't those peanut M&Ms fantastic?  Man, I have missed those something fierce.



Dear kids,

Sorry you {all} hated dinner.  After my cooking hiatus, I'm sure you were all excited that I actually fixed a hot meal tonight.  Sidebar: You never complain about toaster waffles or sandwiches or cereal or whatever choose-your-own randomness I serve, but I feel guilty anyway.

Broccoli really isn't so bad, you know.   You'll figure that out when you're the parent-in-charge-of-meals, or when your spouse makes you eat it regardless of your opinion.

{Love you, Garry.}

The chef

Dear Psych,

In my quest to find re-run television programs that will put me to sleep and not give me nightmares, I have started watching you.  Guess what?  You're so boring and dumb that I can't sleep.  I just stay awake being annoyed that you're boring and dumb.  So I'm sorry that you won't be gracing my Netflix cue.

Actually, I'm not, and this isn't really an apology either.  Maybe it's time for bed.

Yours in fatigue,

Post a Comment

pass it on!

Bookmark and Share