Dear weather,

Stop fucking raining every afternoon. I need to mow my lawn and I have a brief window of time between 5:15 PM and sundown to accomplish this. Thanks much.

Dear lawn dude in front of me in line at Publix,

Nice tribal tats. No, I promise I wasn’t staring. Ok, maybe just a little.

Dear Starbucks,

All your breakfast sandwiches (with the exception of the sausage, egg and cheese one) taste like bits of cardboard wrapped inside cardboard, sprinkled with salt and pepper. And Ricky the drive-thru guy? Stop asking me if I want to try said “tasty breakfast sandwiches”. The answer is no.

Dear parents of bully in Elliot’s class,

Love your child more. Be less aggressive. Work on the no biting thing. Stop being a couple of a-holes, which is apparently why your child beats up on mine.

Dear Joss Whedon,

Thank you for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have thoroughly enjoyed what of it I have seen. I also think Spike needs a hug.

Dear freshmen who own cars,

Stop driving like maniacs.  I have nearly gotten killed a handful of times this week and I don’t need that kind of stress. I have enough with two kids, thank you very much.

Dear piece of trash that fell from the can yesterday,

When I bent over to retrieve you in all your waxy deli glory, I bashed the top of my skull on the underside of my kitchen counter and that fucking hurt. I blame you, little transparent sheet of paper who couldn’t stay put. Thanks for the headache.

Dear authors S. Kenyon, J.R. Ward, and J. Frost,

Thank you for creating such wondrous works of fiction, some trashy, some not as much. But all keep me sane in a world where my days are jam-packed with work, teaching, snot-nosed kids, cooking, laundry, cleaning, dogs, and you know, responsibility.