I feel like I should apologize a lot these days. Like this
Dear dog, I am sorry I’ve skimped on your walks so much lately. I know sniffing a pee-soaked palm frond makes your day, but I can’t always get there.
Dear daughter, I am sorry I snapped at you this morning. I realize that you can’t eat without dragging your teeth along your utensils every single mouthful. It’s really not that big a deal, even the 7,586th time. Really.
Dear son, I’m sorry that I very nearly said the rude version of “be quiet” to you. I know that your emotions feel unbearably intense and you’re trying to express them in words. I applaud the fact that you’ve stopped hitting. But we’re going to have to get our minds around the idea that you must stop randomly screaming your cotton-pickin’ head off when you don’t like the way I phrase something.
Dear husband, I’m pretty sure my terrible housekeeping has not resulted in our house having sick building syndrome. But if you think so, then I am sorry.
Dear friends, I’m sorry I can’t keep up with you—literally or figuratively. I don’t know how you all do it all, and I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch more. I’m terrible at remembering birthdays. But I do love and miss you!
Dear family, Did I mention that I’m terrible at remembering birthdays? That, and I haven’t sent out any pictures or updates on the kids, or asked how you’re doing…I’m so sorry. I do love and miss you all!
Dear body, I’m sorry for all the skipped workouts and all the crap I stuff in you when I’m trying to stay awake. I’m just…sorry!
Dear house, I don’t think I’ve given you sick building syndrome, but the layer of grey grime all over is my responsibility. I’m sorry.
Dear microwave, I’m sorry that I can’t LEAP over to you the second you beep about my food. I know you’re just trying to help when you keep beeping. And keep beeping.
Dear plants, I’m sorry. They said “low forty degrees.” How I could have known there would be frost on the grass by morning?
Dear everyone I haven’t mentioned, I’m issuing a blanket apology for being late, spelling things wrong, sitting at lights when they turn green because I’ve forgotten what a green light means, losing the thread of conversations, looking harried, zoning out, and otherwise not quite doing anything up to par.
And dear bed, I apologize for the way I’m going crash face first into you any second now!
Someday, when I crawl out from under this blanket of fatigue, I will make it up to you all.
PS Dear computer, I’m SORRY I tried to rename this in Word while it was open. Geesh.