Dear Stars in the Sky:
You may already know this, but if you've been busy and not noticed, a brand
new star has joined you. Her name is Lou. She's lovely and sparkly and
kind. Please welcome her warmly and keep her good company. We miss her
very much down here.
Why why why is 3:30 am the preferred hour to be up complaining? And by complaining I mean screaming like your skin is being peeled off. Why? I love you more than sunshine but you are messing with my sanity, which is rather fragile as it is.
Dear Tooth Fairy:
Please bring my daughter the rest of her teeth. I will pay you cash money, as much as you ask.
Dear Warm Weather:
You are frabjous! Please settle in, make yourself at home, and do not be scared off by winter. We've had enough of that dickhead.
Dear New Orange Dress:
How are you see-through? You are wool. Knit merino wool. You are a strong orange. You looked opaque to me when I put you on.
So how is it that at the end of the day, in evening light, my husband was able to tell me the color and style of my bra and underwear? And, more importantly, how many other people would've been able to tell me the same throughout the day on Wednesday?