Dear U,

Once upon a Wednesday off-of-work, my Cousin and I lounged, watching the food channel.  The topic: business people in India ordering lunch. 
 

Dear H.

I hope this weekend fulfilled your hopes.  I, myself, had great intentions.  I dreamed that I would be industrious, studious, creative, outgoing - I sat watching internet streamed movies, cooking, laundering my "linens," (mostly cotton/poly/wool/acrylic blends nowadays), and barely chatting with the drowsing cat and the sleeping dog.

During a burst of tidying I flipped through some books.  That is to say: sat cross-legged upon my bedroom area rug, amidst piles of books that have runeth-over the bounds of my shelves, reading aloud my favorite passages.  In DeBotton's, The Joys and Sorrows of Work, I found something that's meant for you!

 

Such lovely things to be found in the pages of books.  I miss you.  (Which should I read next, Hafiz or E.B. White?)

Love,

Lindy

My Darling Miss M,

Two months ago, I wrote you a letter while sitting in a restaurant in Portland.  (I was at that little Mediterranean place in whose darkened windows we gazed longingly the last time you came to visit.)  It was very entertaining, and had a smear of hummus on the envelope for effect.  It was never posted.

Do you remember that you had a birthday?  It was on the 22nd.  Well, I had a grand plan to send you a hamster made from an argyle sock and the aforementioned letter.  I made the hamster.  I got the box, and packing materials.  It was never posted.

Regardless of the fact that before now, you knew nothing of my intention to send anything: I have avoided your phone calls, and not responded to your emails.  For shame!  Irrational creature that I have been, I am amping up my courage to call you!  (Very soon.)

::squeezes::  

Lindy