Oh dear friends, it’s that time again. It’s actually way past time that I let off a little steam and vent a little in my own special way with some passive aggressive letters from the suburbs. With love of course.
Dear Little People Who Live In My House,
Dishes go in the dishwasher. You. Know. This. Not on the counter, not on the coffee table and not in your bedroom. In. The. Dishwasher. Nuff Said.
60 More Days of Summer?
Dear Delivery Man,
(I shall decline to out you by identifying if you are my UPS or the FedEx man, but you know who you are!) I am less then pleased, that for the third time in as many weeks, I have walked outside to find a “Sorry We Missed You” note hanging on my door handle. Why does this upset me? Notice that I found this little letter as I walked outside. I was HOME when you came by with your delivery. Did you just decide you had just enough energy to walk up to the door but not enough to RING THE BELL??? Seriously a ten on the frustrating scale. This my friends is a Delivery Man fail.
Not Getting My Packages in The Suburbs
I know those chips are amazing, and agree that ice cream and chocolate tastes best when you don’t have to share, but please remember, nothing tastes better then thin feels.
Jiggly Legs….(and watch out cause you know Old Lady Bat Wings are next.) Shiver.