Just in case you haven't picked out the perfect color angora sweater for me, my birthday's Thursday so chipchop. There have been mysterious packages arriving a la casa mia for the last few weeks that I have been strictly instructed I am not to open. Which had to be instructed to me strictly because anytime anything whatsoever arrives at our apartment that does not resemble a bill or junk mail, I tear it open immediately regardless of who's name is written on it. Even when the addressee is someone I don't even know. Whoopsy. Let's just tape that sucker up and it's as good as new! This week has been especially difficult because every one of the packages is a different shape, size, and consistency. It's assaulting my senses, and my senses are sensitive. All of this has helped me actually get excited about the big sha-bang this year, which surprises me because I am usually apathetic (let it be known that I Freudianly typed empathetic on accident, or was it?) around my birthday. But I really am empathetic to people who are apathetic about their birthdays, too.
Dear Little Lost Camera,
I think about you often. I wonder if your new owner treats you nice. Do they always put you back in your little black case when they're done using you? Do they give you enough time to automatic focus before they take a picture? Are you being charged enough? How is Mr. Memory Card? Tell him I miss him too. Don't worry, I'm keeping your charger and docking station at home ready for you if you ever decide to return to me. Daddy wants me to throw it out and move on, but I'll never give up searching for you. He's a turd who has an xbox that's 10 years old anyway, so don't worry about him. Enjoy that big, wide world out there, Kiddo.
Love,
Mom
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