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Dear All My Packages, Where are you? Seriously I feel like you are all in some black hole of mail somewhere. Does it really take something 3 days to get from Indiana to Michigan? I guess so because that’s what’s happening.
Dear Christmas Music, You make my mornings.
Dear Google / Blogspot, Why can’t I post comments on with my Google account? It pretends to accept the comment. And then it’s blank. Again and again. No comments ever post. Grrr.
Dear L, Thank you for so kindly pointing out to me that your laundry basket was overflowing and that I needed to do your laundry. What would I do without you?
Dear My Inbox, Why can I never just empty you? I don’t know why, but there are just some messages I cannot delete or move to another folder. It makes no sense I know.
Dear Parenthood, I have been watching you on a regular basis this season and I understand why people like you so much. I missed the first zillion seasons, but I am on the train now.
Dear B, I swear, if you don’t hand up those canvas prints for me this weekend, I am doing it by myself. With thumbtacks because I know that totally annoys you. It’s been like a year. Come on.
Dear Chevron Throw Coming in my PopSugar Box, I am dying to know what color you are. If you happened to arrive a day early and appeared on my porch today I certainly wouldn’t cry.
