Dear Grocery IQ,
Can't you be magical and transport the things I need directly into my cupboards? I think front door delivery is a necessary upgrade to your app.
You rock. I came home from girls camp to a spotless house, piles of clean and folded laundry, a mowed yard, and children who had enjoyed a week of adventures with you. I'm still happy--literally all day long--every time I look at the light fixture Dad and Garry installed above the kitchen table. We have been eating in the dark for 16 months, and now there is light! Very symbolic. And also very bright!
Love you--The Favorite Child
Dear Health Savings Account,
I think it's cool that Wells Fargo will give me free money for completing various health-related tasks, like online surveys and getting blood work done. I do not, however, appreciate all the red-taped hoops I have to jump through.
Sincerely--The co-account holder whose health funds are dwindling but who has almost met her $6,000 deductible for the year
Dear Iryna Nasekilo,
While your accent is beautiful, your English is broken, which is apparently a qualification for working as a customer service representative. I'm sure you are not paid enough to deal with customers like me. It's not your fault that the HSA website is down, or that such a plethora of information is required from me before I can so much as ask a question. However. I don't think that checking with your supervisor three times in ten minutes is protocol for your job. I am quite certain (because the first guy I talked to accepted my request with ease) that downloading a form and emailing it to me is a task you could have accomplished in approximately 60 seconds. Because you took 20 minutes, and because I am on medication to control my volatile moods (which clearly isn't working), I yelled at you, and you still didn't get me what I wanted by the time I needed it. Five minutes later was too late, and I was mad for an hour.
But that's not your fault.
That mean lady who called at 1:20 MDT
Dear man on the overpass at Bijou Street,
The cardboard sign you were holding said you needed money. The white paper taped to the cardboard sign said you needed $5.00 to buy black pants for your new job. I hope that was really true, because I gave you the $5.00 and you ran away with a smile. I drove away with a smile, mostly because I hoped that on Judgment Day my act of good will might cancel out my tantrum on the phone with Ms. Nasekilo.
Lady in the blue van
Dear Dr. McClure,
You won't sign my health form? Seriously? You have MD behind your name, which is all I need, even if your specialty is crazy brains like mine. You ordered all the labs, after all. Hmph.
Dear dishwasher wheel,
I don't know where you went, or who took you, or in what landfill you are currently residing, but I miss you every.single.time I try to push in my dishwasher's bottom drawer and it clanks around all skewampously (it's a word, I promise). I really hope you have a twin brother at Lowe's, and that I remember to buy him eventually. I can't exactly run to the store when I'm doing the dishes, which is the only time I remember that you are no longer with us. I do have you on my Grocery IQ list, but until that app upgrade arrives, I'm stuck. Or you are. Ha.
Dear Gavin and Lexi,
While you were watching TV in my bed (which was most assuredly as mistake, as you ate chips in there), I snuck into your room and removed approximately 42.6% of the clothes in your drawers. You will never miss them, and your drawers will slide in and out much more easily. But that's mostly because you don't run on wheels that have disappeared and have to be replaced at Lowe's.
I love that you love cooking and baking. Aside from my frustration that you never clean up until faced with a grisly consequence, you always make tempting things that threaten to pad my hips. It's also ironic that you love to cook since you never eat because you "don't want to get fat." Heaven help us both.
Jack Sprat's wife
You have been really expensive lately. Garry's car is currently without A/C, despite paying $500 to get it fixed, and the battery also died. The van, which is eight years younger, has a malfunctioning sliding door. Having to open it manually (and only a little, because it won't budge) reminds me of the days when people had to actually (gasp!) open van doors by hand. That's almost as archaic as turning on a television without a remote, aka 1979.
Thank you for not eating us at camp, and also for not eating our bishop, who was wearing a shirt that said "bear bait" on the front and "#watch me run" on the back. That is all.
A grateful camper