Been goading D for a while to write to me- A hand written-letter, an email or even a one-liner. But to no avail.
And then yesterday, I find this in my mailbox. From him.
" Hair. Colour them. Iron them. Broken nails. Meetings. Friends. Periods. Husband. His friends. Sex. Shopping. Those red shoes. That blue bag. Shopping. Another broken nail. New guys. Old jokes. Parlor appointments. Toll tax. Unanswered calls. Longing for a longing. Date him. Dump him. Menopause. Clearance sale. Date someone else. Date him again. Dump them both. PMSing. Girl's night out. Mosquito bites. Waxing. Laser. Grocery.
You're already dealing with a lot, why do you want me to write to you? Go have beer! "
Well D, simply because you write so beautifully, because no one else writes to me like that and because reading your mails won't make me fat as beer would. So, much as you hoped for it- No, the goading doesn't stop. You still have to keep writing! :-)
Currently Reading: Prevention magazine September Edition
Currently Listening: Random stuff on my iPod
PS- For the benefit of D and everyone else reading this, D's mail above is not factually accurate, only fashionably so. I mean, I don't have a husband, I don't pay toll tax (never have), I simply wouldn't spend time obsessing over nails (intact or broken)- You get the idea. But it's still really beautiful. So consider this a disclaimer of sorts. A'ight?
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1 comment:
You don't have to goad, you're a key member of the ternary that reads me. Will write to / for you as long as you want me to.
PS - get married, start paying toll taxes and file your fingernail.
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