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.
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