just letters

the one about labor day weekend, texts, yelling, bathroom breaks, and fly swatters

dear silly girl,

it’s labor day weekend! and i am exhausted.

all i wanna do is forget that school exists. i want to sleep late, have coffee, and stay in my pajamas until tuesday.

i won’t do that though. i have an insane craving for cocunut-vanilla oikos greek yogurt and cannot find it anywhere! i shall get my behind dressed tomorrow to go foraging for a cup once again for the hundredth time since i first had it. and i have church on sunday. and i promised gran a buttermilk pie, but forgot to pick up a pie crust. and let’s face it, making that from scratch takes way more effort than i have in my body at this moment.


i’ve gotta stop making commitments when i’m energized.

maybe i can convince daddy to go do my bidding.

i doubt it. he’s having a full-on conversation with his computer right now. not sure that i should send him out in public.

… i saw on Chick-fil-A’s message board that they had leadership opportunities available. i texted your aunt jennifer to let her know since she’s looking for a new job. she wrote back i already applied there. they didn’t seem too thrilled. i responded with a sensitive they could smell the heathen on you. 

… clemson’s first football game of the season is tomorrow and it’s a home game. traffic sucks major balls right now. thanks to the increase in idiot lexus drivers flying down the highway, i yell at them to relieve stress. i forgot that i hadn’t shared my new past time with your father and tonight on our way home from the store, one of the speeders zoomed past and i yelled, “I’M CHILLIN’ OVER HERE!” as loud as i could, much to your startled father’s surprise. thankfully, he’s sick and twisted as well and thought it was funny. he said i was a crazy person, but funny nonetheless.

… apparently 11:56 p.m. is the perfect time to make imaginary porridge just like they do in goldilocks and the three bears. you’re banging your pot on my knee and telling me you need more. i. am. so. tired. i just told you i burnt the porridge and we’re all out. i like realistic imaginary play.

… today at the store you told me you had to use the potty. after we squeezed ourselves into a stall, you did your business, and then loudly announced in the echoing, packed full bathroom, “i pooped a big one, mama!”

you are just like your daddy.

but way easier to forgive for those admissions.

… speaking of daddy, he’s on the porch right now with a fly swatter doing either a rain dance or attempting to kill a spider hanging out of a tree. i’m thinking of putting him in a home.

love forever,



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